


If You Can't Give Me All, Give Me Nothing

by stellewrites



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fae, Alternate Universe - Magic, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arranged Marriage, BAMF Stiles, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fae Peter Hale, Flirting, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Good Peter Hale, Happy Ending, Hes trying his best, Kinda, M/M, Magical Peter Hale, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Pet Names, Peter is SOFT for Stiles, Sane Peter Hale, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Sort of anyway, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Stiles loves dogs, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Wedding Fluff, and its not between peter and stiles btw, its a bit grim but its not detailed, its like two lines total in chapter 11 if you want to skip it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2019-01-11
Packaged: 2019-04-26 00:46:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 45,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14390598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellewrites/pseuds/stellewrites
Summary: Stiles had argued with himself for over a week after the idea came to him.He had grown up on tales of the sneaky, malevolent creatures that lived in the forest on the outskirts of their small town. He remembered Melissa telling them bedtime stories of men who thought themselves to be smarter than the monsters, men who had gone into the forest demanding favours and wishes, only to come backdifferent. Both empty handed and empty of mind.“Though sometimes,”she would whisper in the dim light of their bedroom.“They would not come back at all.”But, it only took one look at his brother’s pained, pale face for Stiles’ instincts to dismiss 21 years of warnings and lectures and decide to go straight to the heart of the forest. He followed the song that spoke to his Spark in order to find one of the creatures that lived deep within, hoping to make a deal in order to keep his family and village safe this winter.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to try to update this weekly, and I'll keep you all updated on its progress on my tumblr - stellewrites - if you wanna send me prompts (for this story or separate one shots) or just talk to me about tw, feel free to message me on there as well 
> 
> Don't forget to leave comments and kudos if you want :) they'er always appreciated (including concrit or pointing out any glaring mistakes) 
> 
> Hope you enjoy it!
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothin

The moon hung high in the sky, reflecting just enough light for Stiles to make his way through the trees without too much trouble. He had lost sight of his village many twists and turns ago and was unsure of how he’d find his way back, but that was a problem for later. He kept moving forward, following the pull from deep in his chest, letting it guide him to where he knew he’d find what he came for. 

He desperately hoped neither Scott nor his father had woken to see he was no longer asleep in his bed, they’d know exactly where he had gone and he didn’t want them to follow him. But he had purposely chosen this night to come to the forest because he knew the chances of them noticing him slip out were slim. His father, the town’s Sheriff, had had a long day patrolling the village’s border and Melissa had been staying at the healing cabin to take care of some of the weaker villagers as they became more and more ill as the winter chill hit hard, as was the responsibility of the head Healer. 

Sadly, Scott was one of the afflicted, though he chose to stay at home, not wanting to take up room at the healing cabin when he knew his mother would be able to check on him when she got home. 

Stiles’ brother had trouble breathing during the long winter months, and this year’s cold weather had not been kind; Stiles knew it would only become worse. Scott had barely had chance to recover from last year’s illness when the tell-tale signs of winter had begun this year. Stiles had promised to look after his brother while Melissa and John were working during the day, but as Scott’s condition worsened, Stiles knew he had to do something. He couldn’t stand by as he lost his brother. 

He had been reading up on witch craft and spells, to his father’s concern, hoping to find something that could heal Scott and the other villagers. He understood his father’s wariness, their village wasn’t the most open-minded, especially with what lived so close in the forest next to them. But if his banishment meant he could save lives, Stiles was willing to sacrifice himself. He had been slowly and secretly practising his power for years, the only people that knew about his Spark, were his father, Melissa, and Scott. He couldn’t do much, but he still felt giddy when he could read during the night using his own Spark as a light source. His mother had died when he was young, but she had told him, even until her dying breath, that such power was only to be used for good, and he had taken her words to heart. 

But despite his mother’s insinuation that there was a great power within him, Stiles had found nothing that could help him in the books Claudia had left behind, so his ‘great power’ was seemingly of no use. 

One book had spoken of runes in great detail, and so Stiles had spent an entire day covering their house and land in protective carvings; hoping to keep the cold, as well as any danger, out. He made sure their fires lasted longer than they should, that their small food rations would seem to fill them up more, and that they would all get a more restful sleep after a long day. But it still felt like it wasn’t enough when he would hear Scott’s wheezing breath or see his trembling hands reach for his medicine, despite his father saying he had done so much for them already. 

Stiles had argued with himself for over a week after the idea came to him. He had grown up on tales of the sneaky, malevolent creatures that lived in the forest on the outskirts of their town. He remembered Melissa telling them bedtime stories of men who thought themselves to be smarter than the monsters, men who had gone into the forest demanding favours and wishes, only to come back _different_. Empty handed and empty of mind. 

_“Though sometimes,”_ she would whisper in the dim light of their bedroom. _“They would not come back at all.”_

Those that thought they had outsmarted one of the creatures would return to find their family or friends had disappeared, the village’s memory of them somehow faded. She told them that once, it had taken someone so long to get back out of the forest, that years had passed despite it only seeming a minute to them, their face not gaining a single wrinkle; but their family had long since died. 

_“Be careful of the Fae, for they are vicious and without remorse, and hold a power we cannot hope to comprehend.” She turned to Stiles. “No matter how smart you think you are, they are smarter. No matter how strong of will you think you are, they will make you bend._ Do not go into those woods, _no matter what, boys. Nothing good will come of it.”_

He also vaguely remembered his mother speaking in fonder tones of the fae, saying some people that went in the forest were too arrogant and demanded too much and they deserved what they got. That as long as you were polite and forgiving, the fae would be too. But he was young, his memory hazy at best, and his mother had started to make less sense as the illness spread further, so he tried not to think too much about that. 

The village had a tradition each year, to appease the Fae, and they would spend the entire day before Samhain preparing for it. Those who hadn’t been chosen to help gather and organise the people’s offerings for the night to come would take to decorating the village; laying down fern leaf yarrow and heliotrope around the intended offerings as a beacon, and primrose above the doors and windows of every home to keep them away. It would be the first time the fae had decided to take a family as payment instead when they found the offering lacking. 

Children would make masks at school, being told repeatedly throughout the day to never take it off until the sun rises the next day, lest the Fae steal their face and replace them in the night. More and more of the village’s grizzly history would be revealed as the children grew older, though the cautionary tale of a young girl who took of her mask to sleep, only for her parents to wake and find her with an unnaturally wide smile and eyes that would shine in the light of the moon, would be told from an early age. 

It only took one look at his brother’s pained, pale face for Stiles’ instincts to dismiss 21 years of warnings and lectures and decide to go straight to the heart of the forest to ask the Fae for help. 

Stiles still had a Samhain mask he’d made a few winters back, but decided he would make a new one specifically for his trip to the woods. The mask had to represent a part of yourself, while also hiding you from the creatures in the shadows, so Stiles had chosen a fox’s face to signify his cunning personality, but this time he drew protective runes into the back of the leather and pushed his magic into every stitch and brush stroke as he made the mask. He hid the finished piece beneath his pillow until the night he knew he’d need it. He didn’t need his dad asking why he’d gone out of his way to make a new one. 

When the time came, he tied the mask around the back of his head securely before leaving his house, knowing that there were always eyes watching from the woods during the night. 

He had packed some things he held dear to him, as well as a few items he knew Fae treasured, in a bag on his back. He wasn’t naïve enough to think he would be able to trade only them and get off otherwise scot-free, but he hoped they would tide the Fae over, and lessen the price he’d have to pay for his village’s health during the long winter months.

So, there he was, following the song that spoke to his Spark through the forest to find one of the creatures that lived deep within, hoping to make a bargain in order to keep his family and his village safe this winter. 

 

\--- 

 

Stiles had been walking for what felt like hours when he finally stopped at the edge of a clearing. The pull in his chest tugged harder, almost desperate in its need for him to step into the middle, but Stiles could see the clusters of Ivory Funnel that revealed the Faerie Ring for what it was. He was careful with his next steps as he made his way into the open ground and made sure to stay at least five steps back from the mushrooms. 

“What has brought such a clever little fox to my home?” 

Stiles had to force himself not to turn at the sound of the voice, he knew whatever was speaking to him wasn’t really behind him and he didn’t want to risk turning his back on the Faerie ring. 

After a short, tense silence, with only the sound of his rabbit-fast heart beat in his ears, Stiles’ patience paid off as a tall, broad figure walked out of the shadows from the other side of the clearing. Stiles froze in fear as the powerful fae prowled closer, its form shifting ever so slightly as it passed over the mushrooms. He watched in horror as the Fae’s shadow grew larger within the Ring, the shape transforming into something grotesque, its hands gaining claws and its head becoming elongated and sharp, but the fae’s physical form barely flickered from the human shape it had taken. 

He noticed the mask it was wearing bore a striking resemblance to his own, only the Fae seemed to liken itself to a wolf, and Stiles was inclined to agree. 

“I don’t like having to ask twice, boy.” 

“My apologies, but I felt it would be more respectful to speak face to face,” Stiles had spent days studying how to speak to a Fae respectfully, how to avoid the tricks they set up in their wording, what phrases to avoid, and what actions could be considered offensive. Stiles was considered a bit of a burden by his villagers, so he knew he needed to be extra careful around a powerful and spiteful Fae. Stories told they were quick to anger and frustration, so Stiles was cautious with his wording. 

“I’m here to ask for the chance to make a bargain.” He slowly removed his bag from his shoulder, but didn’t reach inside when he noticed the creature’s narrowed eyes behind the mask. “I’ve brought gifts.” 

“Is that so?” The fae asked mockingly. 

Stiles knelt on the ground and proceeded to take out a loaf of bread he had made fresh that morning, his mother’s old books, his first Samhain mask, and his father’s first wedding ring. The Fae’s interest was piqued when he saw how the boy hesitated in placing the books and ring in front of him, when it scented the air it could taste grief at the back of its throat, along with the sharp tang of desperation, although it was subtle. 

“I accept your offerings, and will give you audience to make your bargain. Now, who is it that I have the pleasure of speaking to?” 

“You may call me ‘Stiles’,” The boy replied, standing up straight again. The number one rule that he found repeated in every tale and every book was that you should never give a Fae your name, or you might as well give away your soul. 

It seemed the Fae agreed, going by the reluctantly impressed smirk it wore. 

“You can call me ‘Peter’. Now, what was it that you wanted to bargain for? Wealth? Power? Love?” Peter offered. He took a few steps forward, his shadow twisting to fall over the offerings, and when it moved back, Stiles saw they’d disappeared. 

“I would like you to heal the people in my village and keep them healthy during this winter,” Stiles said, his voice shaking slightly. 

“And what are you offering in return? For such a high demand I would want, say… Your Spark as payment.” 

“No deal, that’s too high a price. My Spark could help my village over several winters _and_ through harsh summers, I’m only asking for help this once.” 

“Your Spark could help _if_ your village would _let_ you, you mean. Do not think me to be blind or stupid, boy. I see all that happens through the crows, and I do not appreciate your lies or tricks.” Peter’s eyes seemed to glow as his anger grew. 

“I didn’t mean to offend,” Stiles was quick to appease the fae. “But I wasn’t lying. It’s as you said, my Spark _could_ help. I never said it had or will.”

“Hm. Smart fox. If you will not part with your Spark then what can you offer me?” Peter took a step closer to the masked boy, lifting his hand only for it to burn as it came into contact with an invisible barrier. He hissed as he pulled it back and cocked his head, scrutinising the fox mask more closely. “Wolfsbane and iron? And protective runes. You _are_ a clever, little fox, aren’t you?” 

He smiled, baring his unnaturally long and sharp teeth, and hovered his hand over Stiles’ neck. This time more careful to avoid touching the protective barrier the mask created. 

“I know what I want as payment,” Peter said decisively, looking at the boy’s bright eyes through the holes of the mask. He took a step back away from the boy and lifted his burnt left hand. Stiles saw how the skin was slowly starting to knit back together, the new patches of flesh looked soft and pink. “I want your hand.”

“What? M-my _hand?_ Why?” 

“Does it matter? It will cost you if you truly want an answer.” He smirked when Stiles paused before he shook his head. “Then that’s my offer. Your hand for your village’s health, take it or leave it.” 

“Which hand?” 

Peter smiled wide and triumphant, knowing the boy had practically already agreed. 

“The left,” he decided immediately. “Think of it as an eye for an eye, if you want. Recompense for burning mine.” 

Stiles had to bite his tongue to stop himself from arguing that he hadn’t purposely burnt the Fae, he had only meant to protect himself, and if Peter knew how to keep his hands to himself he wouldn’t have a burnt hand in the first place. 

He figured that wouldn’t go down well with the Fae, and he didn’t want to jeopardise the deal this late in the game. They’d managed to come to an agreement. Healing his village, and more importantly, Scott, and only losing his left hand, his mother’s books, and his father’s ring in return didn’t seem like all that high a price after hearing tales of men stumbling home with empty eye sockets after promising their sight, and of women who couldn’t carry to term after promising their ‘first born’. 

“Would you prefer I take your right hand, instead?” Peter prompted after Stiles’ silence lasted a beat too long. 

“No, the left is fine,” Stiles was quick to say. The fae probably thought of it as a kindness by leaving him his dominant hand, and he had no doubts the fae knew which he preferred, Peter had watched him closely enough when he had removed his gifts from his bag. 

_I can probably learn to use my Spark with only one hand,_ Stiles thought to himself. 

“You can have my left hand,” Stiles agreed reluctantly. “And in return you’ll fully heal my village and keep them healthy and free of illness this winter.” 

“You’re going to have to take off that mask if you want seal the deal, little fox.” Peter grinned, waving his now fully healed hand. “I don’t make the same mistake twice.” 

When he saw that Stiles made no move to take off his mask, Peter huffed and reached for his own. 

“How about I take mine of first, hm?” 

Stiles wasn’t expecting the Fae to be so handsome, though he knew he shouldn’t have been so surprised. He had read that some Fae didn’t wait for desperate or greedy people to come to them, sometimes they lured in the lonely or lustful with their ethereal good looks and sinful voices. Stiles couldn’t tell which group he fell into at that moment. 

“Your turn, little one.” 

Stiles startled slightly, but thankfully the Fae seemed to be amused by his slack mouth and staring. 

“No turning back now,” he whispered to himself. He untied the mask and let it drop into his hand, slowly lifting his face from the shadows and revealing himself to the Fae. God, he hoped his hand was worth more to the fae than his face, he didn’t want to end up like the little girl from the stories. 

“My little fox has a face at last.” Peter walked forwards, stopping when Stiles stepped back. “Is your bargain met? Are you satisfied?” 

“I’m satisfied with our deal, Peter.” Stiles offered his hand to shake, but Peter tutted when he saw it was his right. 

“I believe I asked for the left one, Stiles.” 

Stiles’ eyes widened, he didn’t think the fae would take it right away, but it made sense. Why would Peter want to wait for what was his? Stiles’ pain and inconvenience would mean nothing to him. 

His left hand shook noticeably when he lifted it towards the grinning Fae. His smile seemed to fit too many teeth and his eyes were glowing as he grasped Stiles’ hand firmly in his own. God, Stiles really hoped he wasn’t going to bite it off. He didn’t think he’d be able to sleep after that, even with the runes carved in his bed frame. 

Stiles clenched his eyes shut, he didn’t need to see his own hand be ‘taken’. 

“It’s been a pleasure doing business with you, sweet fox.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m so sorry, dad. I’m _so sorry._ I just wanted to _help_ ,” Stiles sobbed into his father’s shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter should be posted on time, but check my tumblr just in case something comes up - you can find me @stellewrites 
> 
> This chapter is a little shorter than the first, but I think it's closer to the length of the updates I'll be doing. Hope you all enjoy it! 
> 
> Comments and kudos are always greatly appreciated and make me smile like an idiot!
> 
> I've changed Stiles' nickname from Slaw to Mietek after someone informed me that was the proper shortening of the name and I looked into it and they were 100% right so, sorry for any confusion this might cause? It's gonna be Mieczyslaw/Mietek from now on if he's not with Peter

Stiles woke in his bed the next morning to the sounds of his family chattering excitedly. 

He rushed out of his bed, and ran into the main room of their small cabin. 

“I don’t know, mom, I just woke up this morning and I could breathe again. It’s like I’ve got new lungs or something,” Scott said as his mother fussed over him, listening to his heart rate and watching her son take deep, clear breaths with no sign of wheezing or infection. 

“But how? How is this possible?” John asked, hovering behind his second wife, watching Scott with something akin to awe in his wide eyes. 

“Everyone in the town seems to have miraculously healed over-night. Patients that were on death’s door before I went to bed last night, were healthier than I’ve ever seen them when I checked on them this morning. It’s a miracle. What was going to be our toughest winter in years, will be much easier to deal with if everyone’s health stays up like this,” Melissa said, turning to John. 

“’A miracle’ doesn’t explain how everyone in our village is suddenly at the peak of their health,” John sighed, a frown building on his brow. 

“Hey guys, what are we talking about? Why’s Scotty out of bed?” Stiles tried to ask innocently, though, going by the watchful look his dad sent his way, he wasn’t 100% sure he pulled it off. 

“It’s amazing, Mietek! Everyone in the village has been healed, and I can breathe _normally_ again, so I won’t have to be stuck in my room 24/7 anymore,” Scott explained excitedly. 

“Really? You’re ok, you feel healthy?” Stiles asked a little worriedly, his shoulders slumping with relief at Scott’s nod. He continued jokingly, “Maybe you can help me with some of the chores now that you’re feeling better.” 

“I’m not sure I’m feeling that good, yet, brother,” Scott pretended to feel faint, leaning against a near-by chair and shaking his head. Stiles laughed at his brother’s antics and nudged his shoulder as he walked past into their kitchen. 

“What are we having for breakfast to celebrate the village’s new-found health?” He asked, reaching for the cupboards that stored the mugs so he could make everyone a warm, morning tea. “Eggs, toast, and bacon? I’ll even let you have three strips just this once, dad.” 

He closed the cupboard when he was met with silence. 

“What?” He frowned. 

“Mieczyslaw… Where did you get that ring?” His dad asked with a rough voice. 

“Ring? What ring?” Stiles looked down to his left hand, his hand that was still attached, but bared an altered version of his father’s ring on his wedding finger. Stiles took a stumbling step back, the memory of last night coming back. God, he’d been so stupid, he had completely forgotten all about what he had promised to give the Fae when he had heard Scott’s boisterous and healthy sounding voice from their room. And now, looking down, he saw he had made a mistake when he made a deal with Peter last night. He had assumed the Fae wanted his hand, _literally,_ whereas it seems the fae had wanted his hand in marriage. 

“You’ve got be fucking kidding me,” Stiles muttered. No wonder Peter had been so quick to ask for his left hand. 

“ _Mieczyslaw._ ” John’s voice was stern and frightened. He recognised his ring on his son’s finger, but he also recognised the symbols carved into it too. When he saw the recognition on Stiles’ face as he seemingly stared blankly at the ring, he had to close his eyes against the tears that threatened to fall. 

His son had made a deal with the Fae in the forest, it had something to do with the village’s sudden health, and now Stiles was bound, _by blood and soul,_ if he was reading the symbols correctly, to the Fae. 

“Mietek, explain. Please,” He said hoarsely, leaning into the hand Melissa had rested on his shoulder. 

“I just- I wanted to help and I… My Spark wasn’t doing enough, so I made- I made a deal with the fae. My hand for the health of the village,” Stiles explained absently, Melissa’s anguished sob falling on deaf ears. His eyes were unseeing as he tried to remember how he got out of the woods, how he got home and into bed, after Peter took Stiles’ hand in his, but the boy’s mind goes blank. 

“I had to give him some other things too, mom’s books, your old ring,” he whispered, looking down at his hand with fear. “I didn’t realise- I thought he meant it literally. _‘I want your hand.’_ ”

“You were going to lose your hand?” Scott asked quietly, his eyes watery. “I would’ve never asked you to do something like that for me, Mietek.” 

“I know, Scotty. But you were dying and nothing we were doing was _working._ Hell, half of our village was on death’s door, you said it yourself Melissa, and I figured losing a hand was worth saving everyone.” Stiles shrugged dejectedly. 

“Come here, son.” John opened his arms and gathered his son in them, wishing he could keep him safe. 

“I’m so sorry, dad. I’m _so sorry._ I just wanted to _help,_ ” Stiles sobbed into his father’s shoulder. 

“I know, Mietek, I know. You’re such a selfless kid, willing to sacrifice yourself like that. This village doesn’t deserve you,” He whispered against Stiles’ hair. “You’re so brave, but so, _so_ stupid.”

Stiles laughed softly along with his dad, pulling Melissa and Scott into the hug as well, taking comfort in his family while he had the chance. 

 

\--- 

 

When they all finally pulled back, they silently made breakfast together; Scott’s new-found health was slightly soured by the news of Stiles’ deal with Peter. Stiles looked down at the ring and studied the symbols that seemed to appear out of nowhere when he held it up to glint in the sun. They weren’t engraved like his dad had first thought, the ring was smooth to the touch, and the symbols seemed to disappear when he hid it from the light. His dad had told him what they meant with a sombre look and a heavy pit of dread had formed in Stiles stomach. 

_By blood and soul._

Stiles had really fucked up this time. He reached for the ring to try to pull it off, but just as his fingers had found their grip against the smooth gold, a pair of strong arms wrapped around him and a hand stilled his. 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, sweet fox.” Peter whispered in his ear. 

Stiles jumped in the confines of the fae’s arms, and heard Melissa gasp and drop the plates where she stood next to the table just outside of the kitchen. 

Stiles turned slowly to face his family with Peter still wrapped around his back and saw his dad glaring murderously from the other side of the kitchen. Scott was behind him, just as angry, if a little less confident in his stance, and stood protectively next to his mother. 

“You must be Stiles’ family. Soon to be mine, if I remember human courting rituals correctly. Forgive me, it’s been a while since I walked among you all,” Peter said self depreciatingly, though Stiles knew he meant it to be more mocking. He had linked his right hand with Stiles’ as he spoke, his smile widening unnaturally when he saw how John’s eyes narrowed in pure hatred. 

“Now, now, sheriff. Remember who you’re dealing with before you go making any rash decisions,” Peter hissed over Stiles’ shoulder, though he seemed to relax more when John put the knife he had held down onto the counter. “Good. I’m glad we can all calm down enough to talk like rational adults. We both know the knife would do nothing, but it _would_ hurt like a bitch, I’d have to find _some way_ to take out my anger. And since I’m contractually obligated not to harm any of you…” 

He tugged Stiles closer. 

“What are you doing here, Peter?” Stiles asked shakily, trying to get loose of his hold without further angering the volatile fae. 

“Would you believe me if I said I just wanted to spend time getting to know my intended and his family?” 

“ _No._ ”

“Clever fox.” Stiles blushed at the compliment, especially when he saw the confused looks on his family’s faces. “I need to borrow you for something, _dear heart._ ” 

Oh god, Peter had noticed his blush, hadn’t he?

“I’m sure your family could spare you for a minute,” the fae said, before Stiles suddenly felt a swooping in his stomach and his vision whited out. It felt as though he’d lost the ability to control his limbs, and then suddenly he was stood back in the same clearing as the night before. 

He pushed himself out of Peter’s arms just in time to throw up in the bushes next to them. 

“I always forget humans have such delicate constitutions. Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it. You’ll find it gets easier after the bonding ceremony,” Peter explained. 

“Oh god, I have to do that again?” Stiles asked, wiping his mouth as he stood up straight. 

Peter stared at him for a moment before taking a step forward, laying his hand on Stiles’ forehead. The human flinched before he realised the remaining nausea he felt had just about disappeared at the man’s warm touch. 

“Better?” Peter asked, lowering his hand. 

“Uh, yeah. Tons.” 

“Good.” Peter nodded. “I don’t think I could’ve dealt with your complaining all day.” 

“Hey!” Stiles protested, unable to see Peter’s teasing smile as he turned away. 

“ _You’re welcome,_ by the way.”

“Shit, uh, thank y-. Wait a minute, you’re not supposed to say ‘thank you’ to a fae because it’s admitting you owe them a debt,” Stiles said, his worry fading when he saw the fae’s shoulders shake with silent laughter.

_Huh._

In the daylight, and without the pressure of possibly dying and condemning his village, the small clearing really was quite pretty and Stiles could see why so many people would be tempted to wander into the middle of the Faerie Ring without a second thought. 

Peter turned around when he noticed Stiles wasn’t following him closer to the Faerie Ring. He was expecting to see Stiles hesitating at the edge of the mushrooms and mentally prepared a biting and condescending comment on how he promised Stiles wasn’t going to get hurt if he stepped over, not when he wore Peter’s ring. So, he was caught off guard when he saw Stiles had drifted off in a completely different direction with awe in his eyes. It made his own gaze soften. He let the human look around the clearing for a minute or so before he held his hand out for Stiles; crossing over to the Faerie Plane would be easier with the guidance and physical touch of a fae and Peter was feeling generous. 

“Come on, Stiles. It’ll still be here when we get back.” 

Stiles jerked when he heard the fae’s voice, and quickly moved to grab his hand. Peter smiled at how easily the human followed orders, but he also liked the fight and fire he saw hidden in those bright, amber eyes of his. 

He pulled them over the ring line and into the realm of the faes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Left it on a bit of a cliffhanger, but you gotta keep the people wanting more ;)  
> If any of you want to see something (or someone) specific in the fae realm, just comment it below or send me a message on tumblr
> 
> John can read fae bc of Claudia's books, but I'll go into that more later 
> 
> I made an edit for this fic as well! You can find it here - https://stellewrites.tumblr.com/post/173447903500/if-you-cant-give-me-all-give-me-nothing


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “No fair, you’ve got powers to keep you warm and dry,” Stiles grouched.
> 
> “Have you forgotten you have a Spark?” Peter laughed, the sound deepening when Stiles’ face warmed and flushed red. 
> 
> “Yeah, but for some reason ‘how to be waterproof’ wasn’t the first thing I looked into."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, almost 5k, this is a big update, but I'm gonna say it's an apology for messing around with previous chapters and Stiles' nickname over the last few days. I've changed it from Slaw to Mietek. 
> 
> It's always nice to see people commenting that they're enjoying reading this, it really gets me excited to write more and more. I wish I could say I knew how long this was gonna be, but I've got no clue atm 
> 
> Comment and kudos are the best and I always appreciate them :)  
> Check out my tumblr for requests/prompts or updates on my fics - @stellewrites

Stiles braced himself for the swooping feeling of his stomach trying to exit his body again, but when his steps didn’t falter against the ground on the other side of the ring, he opened his tightly clenched eyes. Part of him wished he hadn’t, and gripped Peter’s hand tighter subconsciously. 

This wasn’t just a fae realm. 

He recognised the beast hidden in the trees in front of him from his mother’s books and shivered when the wendigo’s gaze lingered for a second too long for his comfort. It bared its teeth and slunk back deep into the forest when Peter tugged Stiles lightly behind his back. Peter let Stiles work through his thoughts in silence behind him and kept a eye out for any other creatures that might set the boy off. 

When Stiles' fear abated and the novelty of crossing dimensions wore off, he took a closer look at where they stood, and noted they were in the _same damn forest._

“Are we still in my village’s forest?” He asked incredulously. 

_“Your village’s?”_ Peter’s eyebrows raised comically. 

“Sorry, your forest,” Stiles amended, and startled when Peter squeezed his hand in forgiveness. He had forgotten their hands were still linked, but he didn’t know how to politely take his hand back, and it didn’t look like the fae was going to let go any time soon. “But you know what I meant. I thought you said we were going somewhere, like your realm or something. This is just, I don't know, a brighter version of the forest.”

“We are in ‘my realm or something’. We live on the same Earth, just on different Planes. The 'brightness' you're seeing is the magic of the forest. Everything that lives here leaves behind it's own type of magic that feeds the forest." "Like a scent trail? But with magic," Stiles guessed. "Exactly. Your Spark will get used to the magic in a moment and the trails will fade away, but Fae come and go through the Rings, other creatures can just hop between whenever they please, and some are stuck here until they’re called through. Like demons,” Peter added absently.

“Demons? There are _demons_ here?! Oh my _god,_ oh no, I’m going to die, I’m--”

“It’s fine, Stiles. They won’t hurt you as long as you’re with me.” 

“Mhm. Mhm. Ok,” Stiles nodded, narrowing his eyes at Peter. “I hear the unspoken ‘so don’t try anything dumb’ and, just for the record, I don’t appreciate the thinly veiled threat.” 

“Then don’t try anything dumb and I won’t have to act on it.” 

Stiles huffed. 

“You sound like my dad,” Stiles griped. 

“You really want to say that to your future husband?” Peter snarked, but his playful jab made Stiles freeze up. 

It had barely been 20 minutes since Peter had whisked him away from his family and it had only taken a pretty field, some scary monsters, and a bit of banter for Stiles to forget who he was dealing with and cosy up to Peter like an old friend. His dad was probably worried sick at home and here Stiles was, holding hands and joking with this monster and, _oh god,_ his future husband. Stiles hadn’t even had time to think about what that could entail. Peter had mentioned a ‘bonding ceremony’, but did bonding mean what it implied? Would they be expected to consummate the marriage? Peter had implied that fae rituals were different to human ones, so Stiles really hoped that would work in his favour. Though when had the fae ever made a deal that worked in the favour of the other person? He’d freely given Peter his hand, but he’d had no idea the scale of what he was really offering up along-side it. _Christ,_ no wonder his dad had looked so distraught at the sight of the ring and so full of hate at the sight of Peter, he’d probably thought of all this already. 

If Stiles hadn’t already thrown up after Peter had transported them to the field, he was pretty sure he’d be looking at last night’s dinner right about now. 

“Stiles?” Peter asked worriedly, letting go of Stiles’ clammy hand and grounding him by his arms instead. Stiles had suddenly gone stock still next to him before turning deathly pale. If Peter didn’t know better he would’ve assumed he had been hit by kanima venom, but he couldn’t smell Jackson near-by. “Are you ok? What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing. I’m fine, just-.” Stiles cut himself off, mouthing silently until he shut his mouth with an audible click. How could he explain to Peter that he felt physically sick at his very touch without gaining the fae’s anger? 

“I interrupted you and your family earlier.” Stiles’ heart stuttered before pounding loudly in his ears. “You must be hungry since you missed breakfast with them. Come, let’s find you some human-friendly food.” 

Peter rested his hand on Stiles’ back, and although Stiles was painfully aware of the weight of it, it felt better than the skin to skin contact they had before. He stiffly let the fae direct him through the trees, his fists clenching tighter whenever he saw a shadow move in the corner of his eye. He realised they had been walking in the opposite direction of his village, and deeper into the forest, a place no one in his village had ever seen. He couldn’t tell if he was more scared or excited to be seeing a part of the forest no human had survived to describe, though his curiosity won out when he heard splashes of water in the distance. 

“Are we going fishing? Because if so, I’ve got bad news for you, buddy. Long limbs doth not make a strong swimmer.” Stiles said, gesturing to his lanky frame and ignoring the way Peter lifted his eyebrow in amusement. 

“As long as you don’t go into the pool, the water will only go up to your knees at its deepest point. Not even you could drown in that, I’m sure.” 

“Don’t underestimate me,” Stiles grumbled self depreciatingly, kicking a pebble as he walked. 

“Never, clever fox,” Peter said seriously, surprising Stiles. “Like I said when we first met, I don’t make the same mistake twice.” 

Stiles kept eye contact with him for as long as he could, but he had to shift to look over Peter’s shoulder pretty quickly, becoming uncomfortable under the fae’s intense gaze.  
“So… How do we catch the fish?” Stiles asked awkwardly, turning towards the quiet creek they had stopped next to. 

“We get in the water and we wait.”

“We _wait?_ I’m not exactly the most patient of people, Peter. My dad used to say my nervous energy would send the fish running – or swimming, I guess. But my point is that I can’t stay still-.” 

“ _Stiles._ I’m not exactly known for my patience either, and it’s running thin as is. _Get in the damn water,_ ” Peter said through gritted teeth, cutting Stiles off. He pointed towards the shallow end of the clear water and waited for Stiles to move before following behind him. 

Stiles took his shoes off and rolled his trousers up before he got into the water, and winced quietly at the cold temperature sinking into his toes. 

When he turned around, he saw Peter hadn’t bothered to do the same, but when Stiles looked closer he noticed the water seemed to drip off of Peter like it would a duck’s back. 

“No fair, you’ve got powers to keep you warm and dry,” Stiles grouched.

“Have you forgotten you have a Spark?” Peter laughed, the sound deepening when Stiles’ face warmed and flushed red. 

“Yeah, but for some reason ‘how to be waterproof’ wasn’t the first thing I looked into, and it’s not as if anyone else was teaching me,” he defended himself. 

Peter nodded, knowing Stiles’ village seemed to automatically hate anything vaguely magical. 

“I guess, you’ll just have to keep rolling up your trousers for now then,” Peter smirked. 

“What? Why can’t you make me waterproof?” Stiles took a few shuffling steps through the water to get closer to the fae.

“I’m already catching your breakfast, Stiles. How much more do you want me to do? Are you going to ask me to start carrying you around all the time once we’re married? I really got the bad end of the deal here, didn’t I? I had no idea what I was getting myself into,” Peter said teasingly, grinning almost cheekily at Stiles, though it quickly fell when he saw the human close into himself again. 

“Yeah, well, _you’re_ the one who interrupted breakfast this morning. I didn’t _ask_ you to get me any food,” Stiles had to stop himself form saying ‘I didn’t ask for any of this’ because, technically, he _did._

Peter just sighed, a mixture of frustration and disappointment. 

They waited for the water to settle in silence. Stiles was quickly becoming angsty, having not seen a single fish since he first got into the dumb stream, when he felt something brush against his calf. 

“Oh my god, what the _fuck_ is that?” He whispered when he looked down to see a tiny person with the body of a fish. 

“That is a Kuliltu, Stiles,” Peter replied. 

“A what?” 

“Mermaids.” 

“Please tell me this wasn’t what you had in mind for me to eat. I can’t eat something that looks like a person, no matter how small or fish-like,” Stiles said, his eyes widening when more flocked to him, weaving between his ankles like affectionate cats. 

“No, you’re not going to eat one-”

_“Oh, thank god.”_

“-But they are going to help us catch something you can eat,” Peter finished. 

“Mermaids. _Fucking mermaids,_ Peter,” Stiles said with awe, the fae just smiled, finding Stiles’ wonder to be one of his favourite traits. “I knew they were real, they were mentioned in one of the books, but I never knew they were so small or colourful. I can’t believe there are mermaids in the Beacon Hills forest.” 

“Here we go.” Peter crouched slowly in the water, his hands shifting to grow sharp talons. Stiles watched as the mermaids ushered a small cluster of fish towards Peter before darting off just as the fae shot his sharp hand into the water quicker than Stiles could process. 

“And that’s how we fish, Stiles,” the fae gloated, holding a small fish in his slightly bloody hand. 

“I don’t think that method will work for me.” 

Peter laughed as he threw the fish onto a nearby flat rock and looked back down into the water, waiting for the mermaids to repeat the process. 

“Oh, no. No, I don’t think I will, thank you,” Stiles tried to explain when he noticed the mermaids had corralled a small fish near Stiles. One of the mermaids was impatiently pushing at his ankle before pointing at the fish, making jabbing motions. 

“They won’t stop. They don’t understand English.” He heard Peter say before a loud splash. 

“Shit. Ok, I can do this. I can catch a fish with my bare hands. Easy, do it all the time,” Stiles rambled under his breath, choosing to ignore the snicker he heard from where he knew Peter stood. 

He crouched low and flexed his hands before nodding at the little mermaids and wildly throwing his hands at the fish. 

“Gah! Oh god, oh it’s so slimy! What do I do with it? I wasn’t expecting this outcome, Peter, help! Kill it! Kill it!” Stiles flailed around with the fish caught between his palms. He quickly pulled it to his chest when it almost flopped out of his grip and turned to the fae for help only to find him bent over laughing himself breathless. “Peter! Now is not the time for laughter!”

But when he didn’t stop laughing at Stiles’ plight, the human did the only thing he could think of. He threw the fish at Peter’s face. 

The stream went silent at the wet slap of fish against forehead. Stiles felt like his heart was about to beat out of his chest and flop around in his palms like the fish as his eyes widened in dread. The fae was stood stock still, a look of shock plastered across his face. 

“Stiles…” Peter finally said, wiping away the water from his face. Apparently, he hadn’t bothered to waterproof his entire body, or Stiles’ battle of strength against the fish had distracted him enough for it to fade. 

“Yeah, Peter?” Stiles replied carefully, bracing himself to run if the fae looked like he was about to attack. 

“Did you just throw a fish at me?” He asked calmly, though Stiles could tell from his tense shoulders that the fae was ready to pounce at any second. Stiles just needed to be one step ahead. 

“Uhm, well I guess that depends,” he stalled, his eyes scanning the woods around them, trying to map out the best route to escape. 

“ _Oh?_ On what, might I ask?” Peter asked, stepping closer. 

“’O-on what?’” Stiles repeated, taking a step back for each one Peter took forward, though it only put him in deeper water. Literally and figuratively. The further back he stepped, the closer he was to the deeper part of pool. And the higher the water; the harder Stiles was finding it to move quickly. 

“That’s what I said.” Peter wasn’t even bothering to hide his grin by that point, his sharp teeth peeking out against his lips. 

Stiles was about bullshit his way through an answer when Peter suddenly raked his hand through the water, splashing Stiles with a large wave of cold water. 

_“Shit,”_ Stiles flinched and lifted his arms to protect himself. He realised his mistake when he reopened his eyes and saw Peter was directly in front of him, but he didn’t have a chance to fight him off before the fae had lifted him by his waist, hitching him over his shoulder. “Let go of m- ahh!” 

Stiles cut off his pleas when Peter tipped himself backwards after wading further into the pool, dunking them both under the water. When they both resurfaced, the fae’s arm still wrapped snugly around Stiles’ waist, Stiles was surprised to hear Peter laughing that same deep rumble as before. 

“I can’t believe you threw a fucking fish at me,” he said between giggles, wiping at his eyes with his free hand as if he was brushing away tears. 

Stiles could only float in disbelief. Was he serious? Stiles had been about to have a heart attack and the fae found the whole thing funny? 

_Let’s see if he likes this,_ Stiles thought before impulsively splashing Peter directly in his face and paddling back a little when Peter instinctively let go of his waist to wipe his own face. 

Peter spat out the water that had flown in this mouth and narrowed his eyes at Stiles.

Oh, fuck. 

“So, it’s like that, huh?” Peter asked before splashing Stiles back. The human tried to swim away, but the wave of water rose unnaturally to form a sphere that floated above his head before bursting onto him. 

“Gah, Peter!” 

“All's fair in love and war, little fox.” Peter shrugged unrepentantly. He watched as Stiles ducked under the water, frowning in confusion when the boy started rearranging the stones at the bottom of the pool. He was about to reach for him when suddenly the water went cloudy and he lost sight of him. Peter smirked. _Clever fox._

He carefully swam towards the left of where he last saw Stiles, thinking he might be able to catch him in his sneak attack. He could sense the human was close and was about to dive below to catch him, when a body suddenly attached itself to his back and over balanced them, causing them to flop forward into the water. 

They both had matching grins on their face when they resurfaced and Stiles held a small rock in his hand. 

“I know I played a little dirty, Stiles, but I didn’t think you’d want to throw a rock at me for it,” Peter joked, but still relaxing a fraction when Stiles laughed. 

“Nah, not yet,” Stiles teased and threw the rock out of the pool. “Didn’t think the mermaids would appreciate the murky water forever, so I had to break the rune lines.” 

They headed back towards the stream and found mermaids huffily dancing around the last fish they had brought for Stiles and Peter. 

“I think I should get it. You didn’t seem to have the hang of it just yet.” Peter winked and grabbed the fish from the water. He reached into his pocket with his other hand and dropped a handful of pointed teeth into the water. Stiles watched in alarm as the mermaids shot forward and started eating them. 

“What the _fuck..._ ” 

“What? You thought they were going to help us for _free?_ They just happen to have a sweet tooth for, well, teeth,” Peter explained as he calmly walked back to the shore and grabbed the first fish he’d caught earlier. When he noticed Stiles was still stood in the water watching the mermaids, he sighed. “Don’t worry, they rarely eat human teeth, they prefer small mammals.”

“Really reassuring, Peter, thanks.” 

Peter just huffed out a laugh as Stiles cautiously made his way to land. 

“Fuck, I didn’t notice while we were in the water, but I’m freezing. This is all your fault,” Stiles pointed at him, curving his other arm around his dripping chest. 

“My fault?”

“You’re the one who dunked me under water.” He shrugged. 

“Because _you_ threw a fish at me,” Peter countered. 

“Because _you_ wouldn’t help me. If the shoe fits, Peter…” Stiles shrugged. 

“Well, I guess I’ll have to make it up to you,” the fae smirked, moving closer to Stiles. 

“Just drying my clothes would do, to be honest, I don’t want to put you out of your way,” Stiles rambled nervously as the fae stopped in his space, a single eyebrow raised. 

He ran his hand down Stiles’ arm, letting his fingers linger on his wrist and lightly tickle his palm. Stiles was too busy trying not to embarrass himself that he didn’t notice he was completely dry until Peter took a step back. 

“There you go.” Peter lifted his other hand, brandishing the fish. “I assume you’re going to be fussy and want these cooked?” 

_“Fussy?!”_ Stiles sputtered. “It’s raw, Peter, I can’t eat it if it’s not cooked. I’ll get sick.”

“Oh, poor baby human. Can’t have that now, can we, little fox?” The fae fluttered his eyelashes in fake sympathy. 

“Shut _up,_ condescending motherfu…” Stiles muttered under his breath, trying to hide a smile with his grumbling tone. 

 

\--- 

 

Stiles _did_ feel a bit better after he had eaten, and it was easier to ignore the hollow feeling of guilt at the bottom of his stomach now that it wasn’t grumbling and empty. 

After Stiles had finished his fish, Peter took his hand and started to lead him back into the trees. Stiles hesitantly waved at the mermaid pool over his shoulder, not wanting to be on their bad side – he liked his teeth intact and in his mouth, thank you very much. 

After walking for what felt like hours, Peter finally turned to Stiles and signalled him to be quiet. The part of the forest they were in seemed… _Damp_ in comparison the rest of what he’d seen so far. Stiles couldn’t put his finger on it, but it felt like it had just rained even though he knew it hadn’t. He watched Peter as he moved quietly through the bush they were crouched behind. He waited for a moment before he heard Peter softly call his name. 

“Stiles, come here,” Peter said. 

Stiles peeked over the leaves to see Peter sat next to a pile of smoke. No, when Stiles looked closer, he could see the shape of a snout and paws. 

“Just walk towards me slowly, she won’t hurt you,” Peter said, stroking his hand down what Stiles assumed was the back of the creature. The smoke swirled around Peter’s hand with a mind of its own, undeterred by the slight breeze Stiles could feel against his face. 

As soon as he had sat down next to Peter, the mass of smoke startle to wiggle, he panicked thinking he had done something wrong, but Peter’s hand gently wrapping around his wrist settled him. He trusted Peter’s judgment when it came to the creatures, even if he didn’t trust him with anything else. 

They waited with baited breath as the smoke broke off from the large mass, and Stiles realised the little plumes of smoke were baby versions of whatever they were looking at. 

They waddled closer to Stiles, sniffing at his shoes and tickling his knees with their wispy snouts. 

“Do you want to know what they are?” Peter asked, still calmly stroking the mother. Stiles could feel her eyes on him, but he knew she was just watching after her pups and didn’t want to harm him. 

“Yeah,” Stiles whispered, transfixed by the little bundle that had made its way to his lap, it was surprisingly heavy considering what it seemed to be made of. 

He was petting the second one and trying to persuade the third not to chew his shoe lace when Peter rubbed the back of his wrist and said, “Hellhounds.” 

Stiles froze. 

“Don’t freak out, Stiles. They _react_ to panic and fear in a way we _don’t_ want to have to deal with,” Peter warned, watching Stiles and the Hellhound mother, trying to gauge both of them. 

But he could only look on in shock when Stiles just scratched the belly of one of the ‘hounds and let another nibble at his fingers. 

“Why would I freak out? I _love_ dogs,” Stiles said sincerely.

Peter was speechless. 

“You continue to surprise me at every turn, little one.” He squeezed Stiles wrist momentarily, before dropping it to his lap, gaining the attention of one of the pups. It made its way into Peter’s lap and pushed its way beneath his hand, demanding attention and warmth. 

Peter scented Stiles’ surprise before he heard the delighted little laugh. 

“Peter, Peter look. They’re _glowing,”_ Stiles said with glee. When Peter looked he saw the smoke surrounding a small fire in the middle of their mass. He could hear the ‘hounds rumbling and purring as Stiles continued to pet them and new they were finding comfort in his Spark, even if Stiles didn’t know he was doing it. 

He suddenly felt a burst of warmth spread in his chest as he looked at the human at next to him, Stiles had taken to the supernatural like a duck to water, maybe he could come to think of this place as a second home with Peter. 

He was taken out of his musings when he heard the Hellhound’s mother chitter, letting out a series of deep clicks and scraping sounds. 

“Ok, admittedly, that’s not so cute. If she’d done that at the beginning I would’ve freaked out,” Stiles admitted, letting the small Hellhounds shuffle back towards their mother. They slid under the roots of the tree they were sat near and down into their hidden den. 

“Scott would have loved to see them, he’s always been interested in all kinds of animals,” Stiles said, his smile turning sad when he processed what he said. “Hey, Peter?”

“Mhmm.” Peter turned to watch Stiles. 

“Not that I haven’t had fun today, but could I maybe go home to my family now? They’re going to be worried,” Stiles tried to ask lightly, not wanting to anger the fae after having had such a good day. 

“Of course, Stiles. The Ring is this way,” Peter stood and nodded to their right. He held his hand out to help Stiles up and loosely held his hand, making it easy for Stiles to let go, but for some reason he didn’t. 

They made their way back towards the clearing, passing trees full of birds Peter pointed out to him, Stiles recognised a few from his mother’s old books. She had hand written a few notes in them and drawn sketches of the creatures she referenced in the margins. 

“Why did it feel like that part of the forest had been raining?” Stiles blurted out. 

“The Rain Bird,” Peter said simply. 

“Seriously? Just a bird that brings rain? I guess I was expecting something like a deer that controls the weather, or the forest is enchanted to change to the creatures’ needs.” 

“The land can change and adapt to whatever is living in it due to the magic that's being fed into it, but it takes a long time. The creatures can help it along sometimes, for example, some of the trees are alive and will move if they feel they're needed elsewhere. _But,_ there are no weather manipulating deer I'm afraid, though there are Jackalope.” 

“You’re _shitting_ me. Little rabbits with antlers?” 

“Mhmm, vicious little beasts as well. Nowhere near as well natured as Hellhounds,” Peter grimaced. “And the Rain Bird isn’t _just _a bird that ‘brings rain’. It’s seen as a symbol of bringing life into the world, it helps keep balance among the forest and all the creatures.”__

__“The Hellhounds were new-borns?” Stiles guessed. Peter nodded, smiling. “And he was watching over the mother, as a ‘bringer of life’. That’s so _cool.”__ _

__Peter chuckled, enamoured by Stiles’ enthusiasm._ _

__“If only more humans thought like you,” Peter said as they came back to the field with his Faerie Ring._ _

__“Ha! You’re the first person to ever want that,” Stiles laughed._ _

__“Well, humans have never been the smartest bunch,” Peter said haughtily._ _

___“Peter,”_ Stiles said warningly. _ _

__“It goes unsaid that you’re the exception,” Peter said soothingly, his smile widening at Stiles’ huff. “But you know yourself that humans aren’t the most accepting of anything even vaguely different. If given the chance, the people of your village would hunt and kill all the creatures in this forest and call it ‘self-preservation’. Half of the species here don’t even eat meat, but because of the few that sit higher than humans on the food chain, we’ve all been condemned. Can you name one person that would have reacted as well as you did to what you’ve seen today?”_ _

__Stiles stayed silent, his lips thinning._ _

__“That’s what I thought.” Peter nodded solemnly, before continuing with a sly, possessive grin. “Don’t worry, clever fox, it just makes you all the more special.”_ _

__“Weren’t you just about to take me home?” Stiles tried to deflect, making Peter roll his eyes._ _

__“Yes. Come on then, can’t leave your family waiting for too long,” Peter said with a small smile, as if he was privy to an inside joke._ _

__Once they were at the other side Peter reached to transport Stiles directly to his house, but Stiles ducked out of his reach, managing to fall his full length in the process._ _

__Peter looked at him with a look of amused disbelief._ _

__“Oh no, no, I’m not going through that again. My stomach still isn’t right form the first time you zapped us from one place to the next. I’ll walk, thank you very much,” Stiles said, standing up and dusting himself off. “It’ll take me like 20 minutes, tops.”_ _

__“Ok, we’ll walk,” Peter agreed._ _

__“We?”_ _

__Peter gave him a deadpan look._ _

__“You’re in the middle of the dark forest Stiles, even if it isn’t the middle of the night. I’m not risking you falling into some giant spider’s web and getting yourself eaten,” Peter explained slowly._ _

__“But you said I was safe with the ring on. Why wouldn’t I be safe here?” Stiles asked, confused._ _

__“Spiders tend eat first, ask questions later. So, I’ll escort you back to your home,” Peter said, already heading towards the village._ _

__“Wait, you were being _serious_ about the giant spiders?!” Stiles shivered. “How big are they?” _ _

__

__\---_ _

__

__Just like Stiles predicted, they made it back to the village in less than half an hour. Peter stayed at the edge of the trees and out of sight of the villagers milling about in the fields nearby._ _

__“I’m going to come around again tomorrow,” Peter blurted out, surprising Stiles. It was the first time he’d ever seen the fae look awkward and not completely sure of himself. Sure, Peter had been taken by surprise a few times, but he’d never twiddled his thumbs or avoided Stiles’ eyes._ _

__“Uhm, sure. Ok. Just… Come _after_ breakfast this time?” Peter nodded, smiling at Stiles. “And maybe come through the door instead of just appearing. And knock, don’t just walk in.”_ _

__Peter rolled his eyes dramatically._ _

__“I know how to use a door, Stiles.”_ _

__“Yeah, _sure._ Prove it tomorrow,” Stiles smirked. He paused before saying, “I had fun today, Peter.” _ _

__That ball of guilt built up in his stomach again and Stiles had to look away from the fae to ease it off somewhat._ _

__“I’m glad,” Peter replied softly. “See you tomorrow, little fox.”_ _

__“See you tomorrow, Big Bad,” Stiles said as he walked backwards, heading home. He didn’t want to make his family wait longer than they already had. Peter grinned at the nickname and watched the boy run home._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My friend was talking about the quote "one swallow doth not make a summer" and I was like 'bro, I gotta use that in this fic'  
> made another edit lmao, find it here - https://stellewrites.tumblr.com/post/173649385305/if-you-cant-give-me-all-give-me-nothing 
> 
> If you wanna know what the mermaids look like, google Jenny Haniver and picture it more brightly coloured and scaly? But fr that pic haunted my dreams for a while tbh, so weird looking 
> 
> I just googled monsters and then went through the wiki page list and picked a bunch that sounded cool, so if any of the info about the myths and stuff is wrong in this you gotta take it with a pinch of salt bc research is not my strong suit


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles was stuck listening to the people in his village come up with theories on how they’d all gotten better, and they just got more and more ridiculous, making it harder for Stiles to keep his mouth shut about his trip into the woods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter chapter this week, and, sadly, no Peter. But!! The next chapter is FULL of steter goodness, so hopefully that will make up for it. And it'll be a bit longer 
> 
> Tbh I wasn't fully convinced I'd get this out on time because I was really struggling with writing it, I had the worst writer's block. So this is far from my best writing, but I think I can get myself back on schedule again this week :) 
> 
> Kudos and comments always appreciated! Concrit is cool too (don't be too harsh tho, I cry quick) 
> 
> Check out my tumblr - stellewrites - send me prompts and all that

Stiles was too distracted thinking about his feelings for Peter and wondering how his family were going to react to notice the sun was still rising above the east side of the village and how the village centre was nowhere near as busy as it would usually be. 

He made it home in record time, and crashed through his front door, gaining the attention of everyone in the kitchen.

“Mietek! Are you ok?” Scott ran to him, wrapping him up in a tight hug as soon as he was close enough, only letting go so his mom could do the same, kissing Stiles on the forehead. 

“What happened, where did you go? Did he say anything? _Did he threaten you?”_ His dad questioned him as soon as he was close, running his hands over his son to make sure he was still in one piece. 

“Dad, I’m fine. He didn’t do anything, he just showed me around the fae realm. It was… Ok,” Stiles finished lamely. 

“What? You’ve only been gone for five minutes, you couldn’t have seen more than his front door.” John frowned. 

“I’ve been gone for _hours,_ dad, what are you talking about?” Stiles looked to Melissa and Scott for confirmation, but they looked just as confused. “Maybe time moves differently over there.” 

“You were with him for hours? What were you doing?” Melissa asked worriedly. 

“Like I said, he just showed me around the forest on the supernatural side.” Stiles shrugged. 

“What was it like?” Scott asked a little hesitantly, but Stiles could see the excited curiosity in his eyes.

“ _Alive._ There’s so much in there that we don’t know about, beyond even my imagination.” Scott snorted on a laugh, encouraging Stiles to carry on excitedly, missing the worried looks his dad and Melissa shared. “I swam with tiny mermaids and got to meet some Hellhounds. FYI, a lot cuter than you’d think.” 

“Jesus, Mietek. You said it was ok and now you’re telling me you were near Hellhounds? What’s ok about that?” John said, sounding like he was holding back tears. 

“Dad-.”

“ _No._ You just said you were gone for hours, and we didn’t even _know._ He could have kept you there for days, he could have been _hurtig you,_ and what could we have done?” His dad continued desperately, growing angrier the more he thought about his son alone with that monster. 

“Dad, come here, it’s ok. I’m fine, he didn’t hurt me. It’s going to be ok,” Stiles hugged his dad, trying to console him. 

“How can this be ok, Mieczyslaw? I’m your father and I can’t even protect you.” 

“I’m the one with the Spark, remember? Maybe it’s my turn to protect you for a while,” Stiles said grinning at his dad’s indignant huff. “Peter’s coming by again tomorrow, but I’ll tell him I don’t want to go back again so soon, ok? We’ll stay in the village; maybe it’ll soften him up when he sees the people he’s been hurting over the years.” 

“Yeah, I wouldn’t get your hopes up,” John grumbled. 

“Well, we might as well have breakfast now that Mietek is back,” Scott said, already in the kitchen getting out some more plates to replace the ones his mother had dropped and broken earlier. 

“Yeah, I could eat,” Stiles said, patting his rumbling stomach. _Though this is more like lunch for me,_ he thought to himself. 

The family once again started working together to get their food cooked and plated, before sitting down together at the table. 

 

\--- 

 

The two brothers headed into town later to get Scott used to small amounts of exercise after being bed ridden for a few months. Melissa and John had headed out a little earlier to see how the villagers were taking their new-found health, not wanting any of them to freak out too soon. 

John had told Stiles to keep mum about the deal with the fae until he’d had the chance to check on certain members of their little town, not wanting gossip and lies to spread around. He’d call a meeting in the afternoon and they could explain everything then. 

When Stiles had offered to lie by omission and not tell the others about Peter at all, John had glared and reminded Stiles that he was visiting _tomorrow._

_“How would you explain the sudden appearance of a random middle-aged man?” John asked._

_“Ooh, not sure how Peter would feel about being called middle-aged, he seems like the sensitive type when it comes to his age,” Stiles joked._

“Mietek.”

_“Sorry. Uhm, distant uncle?”_

_“That you’re going to be_ marrying?” _John asked with raised eyebrows._

_“…Scott’s uncle?”_

_“No, Mieczylaw. We’re telling them._ You _are telling them,” John said firmly._

_“Fine, ok,” Stiles sighed._

And so, Stiles was stuck listening to the people in his village come up with theories on how they’d all gotten better, and they just got more and more ridiculous, making it harder for Stiles to keep his mouth shut about his trip into the woods. 

At first, Stiles would keep overhearing people’s conversations on how they’d been praying for the village to get better, but Stiles doubted that they thought that divine intervention would come in the form of Stiles. 

His favourite theory, by far, came from one of the kids playing near the fields. 

“I think it was Santa.”

“What? Why would Santa help us? It’s not even December yet,” one of the other kids frowned. 

“I know, but I already wrote my letter and I said that I just wanted people to be healthy this year,” she shrugged. 

“Oh, cool. Santa’s the _best.”_

“Yeah. And it’s nice 'n' all, I’m glad my grandpa’s ok now. But now I have to share my room with Duec again, since grandpa’s coming home, and Duec is gonna have way _way_ more presents to open this year than me, which is the _worst, obviously,_ because _Duec_ is the worst.”

“Duec _is_ the worst,” her friend nodded seriously. Stiles knew which kid they were talking about, and they weren’t wrong, the kid was a fucking menace. 

He chuckled as they walked past, waving away Scott’s questioning hum. 

“Just some kids talking about the miracle of Santa.” Stiles grinned. 

“Oh god, this is going to go to your head. I knew we should’ve kept you inside before you talked to the village,” Scott laughed. 

They sat down a while later, letting Scott’s legs rest, and Stiles once again listened in to a nearby conversation going on between a few of the elderly villagers. He was caught off guard when he heard the first sentence of their conversation. 

“I wouldn’t be surprised if it was Chris’ bad mood was somehow making everyone ill,” one lady started, only encouraged by the giggling shushes sent her way by the other two women. “And now, _finally,_ he got a good, hard fuck and relaxed a little. Did you see the skip in his step this morning? Couldn’t be anything else.” 

Stiles blanched. Oh god, this was not what he was expecting to hear. 

“His gait _was_ a little crooked, wouldn’t you agree?” A second voice pitched in over the sound of smothered laughter. 

“Maybe Victoria finally got around to-.” 

_Nope._ Stiles turned to Scott and loudly suggested they start walking again, to Scott’s dismay. He didn’t complain about Scott’s whining until he knew they were out of earshot of the giggling ladies. Stiles did not need to hear about Chris’ sex life with Victoria from the gossiping old biddies of his village, _thank you very much._

Stiles was a little more careful of listening in after that. 

 

\--- 

 

“Ok, now I know everyone is very excited to see their family and friends healthy, and you want to know what’s going on. So, I called you here to explain how this happened,” the sheriff started. He had Melissa, Scott, and Stiles all stood behind him on the small stage in the village centre. 

“Our prayers have been answered!” Someone shouted from the crowd. 

“It was obviously medical science!” Another voice argued. 

“Everyone _quiet,”_ John demanded. “I just told you it’s all going to be explained, so be patient and let Mietek speak.”

The crowd started murmuring again when John mentioned Stiles would be explaining, but stayed quiet enough for John to let it go. 

Stiles stepped forward when his dad moved out of the way. He cleared his throat before starting. 

“A lot of you, well, _all of you_ know about what lives in the forest next to us.” Stiles watched as the crowd grew uneasy at the subject. “Well, I uh, the thing is-. Because of my Spa-. _No, nope._ Look, I just thought I could-.”

“Spit it out, kid!” 

“Hey, give him a chance!” John shouted back at the crowd. He turned back to Stiles and squeezed his shoulder in support. “Go on, son. It’ll be ok, remember?” 

Stiles nodded. 

“I made a deal with the fae,” he said resolute, his voice strong and clear. 

The town was silent before the crowd went ballistic. 

“You did what!?”

“How could you do something so _stupid?”_

“Oh god help us! He’s sold our souls!”

“We’re doomed!” 

“You _little shit! _What’s _wrong_ with you?” __

__Stiles took a step back in shock at how violent the crowd had turned. He looked around and saw children crying into their parents’ legs, people had their heads in their hands, while other were angrily shouting and making their way closer to Stiles._ _

__“Hey! Calm down, everyone! We haven’t finished. Let Mieczyslaw explain before you condemn him for saving your lives!” John shouted furiously at the enraged crowd._ _

__“I uh, I asked for everyone to be healed and to stay healthy during this year’s winter months because everyone was so _sick,_ and it was only going to _get worse,_ and-.” _ _

__“What did you trade, magiczny dziwak?” A rough voice asked from the back of the crowd._ _

__“Hey! Don’t call him that,” his dad cut in._ _

__“Just tell us what you traded!”_ _

__“I traded my hand,” Stiles explained. “I thought he meant it literally, but it turns out I’m- I’m marrying one of the fae. He goes by the name ‘Peter’.”_ _

__“Do you know what you’ve done?” Stiles looked down to the man who spoke. Adrien Harris, _great._ “You’ve invited one in, you’ve given it an excuse to visit us outside of Samhain. Who knows what it’ll do when it’s here!” _ _

__“Peter wouldn’t do that!” Stiles argued, his eyes going wide at the shocked silence from the crowd. “He’s contractually obligated not to hurt any of you, so he won’t be doing anything when he’s here.”_ _

__“Oh yeah? And what about the monsters he brings with him? Have they _pinky promised_ not to eat us as well?” He mocked. _ _

___“Shut up,”_ Stiles snapped, already tired of hearing Harris’ voice. _ _

__“You said ‘when he’s here’. Does that mean he _can_ come here?” A scared voice asked. _ _

__“Yes. Peter is coming to the village tomorrow,” Stiles sighed at the sudden shouts of outrage and turned to his dad who just shrugged. Looking back at the crowd he snapped. “He was already here this morning and you’re all alive, aren’t you? Stop worrying. If it bothers you that much, we’ll stay near the fields for the entire day. But I sacrificed _my_ hand for all of _your_ lives, _none_ of you have had to give up _anything_ and you’re all _safe now_. I know you didn’t ask for any of this, but a ‘thank you’ wouldn’t be remiss. _Fuck.”_ _ _

__“Tell ‘em, Mietek,” Stile heard Scott whisper._ _

__The crowd mumbled among themselves, suitably reprimanded._ _

__“I’m going home, dad. This was exhausting,” Stiles said, hugging his father and turning to walk home with Scott._ _

__“You did great,” Melissa said as he walked past. She stepped forward to stand next to John as he explained how Peter new Mieczyslaw as Stiles, and no one was to give the fae his real name, under _any circumstances.__ _

__Their night was going to be a whole lot longer than Stiles’. He was sure at least half the village would want Melissa to look over their ill family members again, _just in case,_ now that they’ve found out where their precious miracle had come from. And John would have to stomp on any stray ideas that throwing Stiles to the wolves would save their own skin. _ _

__This whole marriage thing was such a drag._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow that would've been a long day for Stiles 
> 
> You're damn right I implied Victoria pegs the living daylights out of Chris, what you gonna do about it? That gal was a dom, clear as day 
> 
> I google translated 'magic freak' into Polish so that is MOST definitely wrong, but I don't speak Polish. If anyone wants to correct me, feel free. I'd appreciate it. But yeah, I chose magic freak because Stiles is more open to the idea of magic than the rest of them and also some stuff to do with his mum maybe?? You'll find out, but its not bc they know he has a Spark, even though he almost slipped up and told them 
> 
> And yea, the alpha pack are a bunch of little kids. I was picturing Kali and Ennis talking and Kali and Deuc are siblings


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Are you sure we can’t just teleport there?” 
> 
> “No, Peter. This is the human world so we’re doing things the human way.” 
> 
> “The human way takes so long though,” Peter complained, refusing to admit he was pouting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoy this chapter! 
> 
> Comments/concrit/kudos always appreciated 
> 
> A lot more Peter this week <3

Stiles woke early the next morning, and, unable to go back to sleep due to an abundance of nervous energy, got out of bed to prepare for the day ahead. He made himself and Peter some lunch to eat later; unsure if the fae ate, but unwilling to share his own sandwich just in case, he also packed two pouches of water, and some money into his bag for when he showed Peter around. 

John was the second to wake, looking as tense as Stiles was nervous. 

“You’re up early,” Stiles said. 

“Could say the same to you,” John replied a little sleepily. “Heard you moving around, thought you might want some company. I’ve got to be up and out of the house soon anyway.” 

“Yeah, I couldn’t sleep, figured I’d make breakfast for everyone now so that Peter can’t barge in half way through again,” Stiles tried to joke, his weak smile mirroring his father’s.

“It’ll be fine, Mietek. The village won’t bother you, a lot of people came to your defence last night. They appreciate what you’ve done, even the stubborn ones.” John squeezed his son’s shoulder in comfort before chuckling. “And if any of them do step out of line, I have no doubt that you’ll be able to take them down a peg or two.” 

“Yeah, it’s not the villagers I’m worried about stepping out of line,” Stiles sighed. 

John took a breath before replying, but he was cut off by Melissa walking into the kitchen. 

“Morning Mietek.” She smiled, leaning into the sheriff and kissing him chastely. 

“Ew, _gross!_ No kissing in the kitchen,” Stiles groaned, failing to hide his teasing grin when his dad went to smack him upside the head and Melissa’s eyes crinkled in mirth. 

 

\--- 

 

The rest of the morning went surprisingly peacefully, Peter didn’t arrive early and Stiles was slowly calmed by the presence of his family sat around him, talking and joking like  
usual over breakfast. 

John was tying the laces of his winter boots while Melissa and Scott were discussed where he could look for a job within the village when they all tensed at the sound of a knock on their front door. Stiles sighed. 

“I’ll get it.” He could feel his family’s eyes on his back when he opened the door to Peter. 

“I’m not too early, right?” Peter asked, pretending to be worried, but the way the corners of his lips tilted up slightly betrayed his hidden mirth. 

“Nope, just in time, Big Bad. Let me grab my coat and bag and we can get going,” Stiles said, turning back into his house and leaving Peter leant on the doorway. 

“Sheriff.” Peter nodded as Stiles’ dad moved to hand his son his bag. 

“Do you want to wait a few minutes and we can all walk in to town together?” John asked pulling his glare away from Peter to smile at his son. 

“We’ll be ok, dad. Having a group of us walking around might make it worse,” Stiles said. 

“Ok.” The sheriff nodded. “We’ll be around if you need any of us though.” 

“Thanks, dad,” Stiles hugged him and clapped Scott on the shoulder as he passed him. “Thanks for breakfast Mel, I’ll see you all later.” 

Peter smirked as they made their way outside. 

“It almost sounds like your dad doesn’t trust me,” the fae pouted, but his eyes were amused. 

Stiles scoffed. 

“ _I_ don’t trust you, why would he? None of us are dumb enough to think that our… Our marriage suddenly makes you trustworthy,” Stiles looked away from Peter as he spoke, looking out for any villagers, and missed the hurt look that briefly crossed Peter’s face. 

“Right,” he said tersely. 

Stiles turned to him with a frown, confused at his sudden sullen mood.

“So, I was wondering if we could stay in the village today. Since you showed me your world, I figured I could show you mine,” Stiles said before they could turn to make their way to the forest. 

Peter raised his eyebrows. 

“What makes you think I haven’t seen your world?” Peter scoffed. “You’re not my first human, Stiles.”

Stiles didn’t know why those words caused a ball of jealousy to form in his stomach, but he pushed it down and shrugged. 

“I know. Maybe you’ve seen my village a hundred times over, but you’ve never seen it from my perspective, and I wanted to share that with you after yesterday. Just thought it would be nice is all.” Stiles fiddled with the strap of his bag, feeling silly for even thinking Peter would want to stay in a boring, human village when his world holds beasts and flora beyond Stiles’ wildest dreams. 

Peter sighed, regretting his sharp tone and rash words in the face of Stiles’ crestfallen look. The boy was hiding his disappointment well, but Peter had had years and years to master the art of reading people. 

“You’re right, it does sound… Nice,” Peter cringed at how disingenuous he sounded, and Stiles seemed to notice as well going by the way he snorted a short laugh. 

“Don’t sound so enthusiastic, Peter,” Stiles snickered. 

“Sorry.” Peter grinned. “What did you have in mind then?” 

Stiles smiled back, hitching his bag higher on his shoulder in excitement. 

“I thought we could go to the town centre, so you can see where I live and maybe meet some of the people I had in mind when I made the deal,” Stiles said before carrying on enthusiastically, counting the different places on his fingers. “We could visit the Healers, the school, the blacksmith should be open today… Oh! And the cobblers, the small theatre where we put on plays every solstice, and _then_ the farms on the outskirts of the town, but they’ll be bare this time of year. I’ve packed some food as well, so we can stop anytime we get hungry. There aren’t any mermaids that can fish for us _here.”_

“Ha ha.” Peter rolled his eyes playfully. He stopped walking after a minute of silence and caught Stiles’ attention with a cough. “Do you, uh, do you want me to pretend to be human? To make it easier on your village’s _delicate sensibilities.”_

“You’d do that?” Stiles asked, a little endeared by Peter’s forced casual shrug. 

“If it would make it easier for you to show me your home, yes.” 

Stiles grinned, but shook his head. He could see the idea made Peter slightly uncomfortable. 

“That’s ok, they already know you’re coming.” Stiles bumped his shoulder against the fae’s and carried on walking, hearing Peter’s steps continue after a short pause. 

“You told them I was coming?” Peter asked in disbelief. “I can imagine they didn’t keep their complaints to themselves. Should I have come dressed in protective gear?” 

“As if they could actually hurt you,” Stiles scoffed, making Peter grin. “My dad talked to them last night, so they should be on their best behaviour. Though I don’t doubt some people will still want to say something if we pass them, but I think your presence alone will stop them from trying anything.” 

“Is my presence that impressive, Stiles? Will I have them all weak at the knees and begging for my forgiveness?” The fae joked, moving to walk closer to Stiles’ side. 

“More like one look at that ugly mug will make them run in the opposite direction for miles,” Stiles replied, his voice thin. He weakly elbowed the fae to gain some distance between them, his heartrate picking up at Peter’s proximity. 

Peter sucked in a sharp breath between his teeth, pretending to be hurt by Stiles’ bony elbow while trying and failing to hide his elated grin. Peter _loved_ it when his fox felt comfortable enough to mouth off to him and used his sharp tongue. That mixed with the flustered look on his face was perfection to the fae. 

“You _wound_ me, Stiles. Don’t forget, you’re going to be stuck with this ‘ugly mug’ for as long as I am.” Peter took Stiles’ hand in his own, rubbing his thumb over the boy’s knuckles. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Stiles said, a small smile gracing his lips subconsciously. He turned to look at the fae when he felt him squeeze his hand and saw Peter had a similarly soft and sweet smile on his face. 

Stiles looked away at the sounds of a scoff and soft mutterings, they had already walked half way into the centre of the village without realising, so caught up in each other. He looked across at the two women who were glaring at Stiles’ and Peter’s joined hands, though as soon as they saw him notice them, they quickly scurried off in the opposite direction. 

Stiles frowned. 

“So, maybe _everyone_ is going to be glaring while we’re here.” 

“Only what I expected from such a closed minded, little village.” Peter shrugged, fondly sighing when he saw Stiles affronted look. “You want to argue otherwise? Be my guest, but you know I don’t mean you or your family, sweet fox.” 

Stiles huffed, too stubborn to let Peter off the hook, but also not wanting to come to the defence of a village that has shunned him since he was young.  
Peter’s smile widened at the human’s silence, but let the topic drop. 

“What was the first stop on your itinerary?” Peter asked looking at the small shops around them. 

“The Healers are just around the corner, so we could head that way. We might see Melissa there as well.”

“Melissa?” 

“Scott’s mom, and my dad’s wife.” Stiles smiled. “She’s great, I’ve known her since I was little, and when Scott’s dad left and my mom… We all moved in together after a while. Scott was already like a brother to me and we could tell that there was something there between our parents and they were only hesitating because of us, so we made sure they knew we’d be happy as one little family.” 

Peter frowned at the sharp scent of grief that came with Stiles mentioning his mother, but the boy just shrugged when Peter tilted his head. 

“Hopefully she won’t be too upset that I’ve put her out of a job for a year,” Peter joked. 

“Nah, she’s been pretty relieved to be honest. My dad was worried because she wasn’t getting enough sleep, but now she’s at home a lot more and she only has to deal with a few kids with scuffed knees or check up on the really old people in our village,” Stiles explained as he guided them through the winding streets. 

As they made their way closer, Peter noticed some of the villagers would stop to gawk as they walked past, the fae couldn’t resist baring his sharp teeth at them in a broad smile, delighting in their wide eyes and shaky hands. 

“Come on, _really?”_ Stiles’ voice distracted him from scaring another group of middle aged men stood outside of what Peter assumed to be one of the only taverns in Beacon Hills. He turned to see the boy shaking his head slightly. “I have to live here, Peter. Can you at least _pretend_ to be nice and polite for one day?” 

“Sorry,” Peter said, surprised by his own bashfulness. “Can’t help my nature, little fox.”

“Yeah, whatever, Big Bad.” Stiles smiled. 

They were coming up to the Healing cabin when Stiles heard a familiar voice call out to him. 

“Miet- uh, Stiles!” Allison shouted. 

Stiles tensed at her slip, but when he glanced at the fae next to him, he didn’t seem to have noticed. 

“Hey, Allison, what’s up?” Stiles asked, surprised to see her running towards them. He thought the lead hunter would’ve wanted to keep some distance from the fae today. 

“There’s a kid at the school,” she started, panting slightly from her run. 

“That’s where they tend to be during the day, Ali.” Stiles winced when she punched his arm not-so-lightly. 

“Yeah, but they don’t usually get stuck in trees, do they? I’ve tried climbing up to get him, but Liam’s somehow gotten his leg jammed between the branches and we can’t cut it without catching his leg,” she trailed off, glancing at Peter for a moment before continuing on. “I thought maybe P-Peter could help, maybe break one of the branches so I can get him down.”

Stiles sighed, the kid’s parents will _not_ like hearing about Peter helping out, but before Stiles could say anything, Peter started speaking. 

“All you had to do was ask, hunter. Where’s the school?” 

“Uh, this way…” Allison said a little hesitantly. Stiles could tell she didn’t want to lead Peter to the village’s children, but he also knew they must be desperate to even consider asking Peter for help. 

 

\--- 

 

Stiles could hear the young boy’s cries before he could see the school, and by time they came up to the tree Stiles could see a surprising amount of blood coming from below Liam’s scraped knee. 

“He fell from a few branches above,” Allison explained. “Scott went to find his mom, but he said from what he could see he thinks his leg won’t be broken, the bleeding is just making it look worse than it is.” 

Stiles nodded, reassured. 

“Ok, so do you want to climb up first and then Peter can do whatever to the branch so you can grab Liam?” Stiles started to plan with Allison, but didn’t hear Allison’s reply when he turned and saw Peter walking towards the tree. “Hey, Peter, wait!” 

Peter ignored him, climbing the thick trunk with ease, his grip not slipping against the snow and ice. He hefted himself up to the same level as the little boy and held his hand out towards him. 

The boy had grown still at the sight of Peter, his tears stopping momentarily out of fear. 

“It’s ok, Liam. Take my hand, I’m not going to hurt you.” Peter smiled softly at the tearful child, keeping his arm stretched out with his palm facing up. Peter kept his teeth out of sight, and had dimmed the unnatural glow of his eyes and after a few tense moments, with Stiles and Allison slowly making their way closer to the tree, Liam put his hand in Peter’s. “There we go.”

Soft rays of light peaked out between Peter’s free hand and where it was resting against the tree as he pulled the boy through the branch and rested him against his shoulder as he climbed back down. He immediately passed the sniffling boy over to the nearest adult and turned to Stiles and Allison, laughing at their matching looks of disbelief. 

“How the fuck did you do that?” Stiles asked, ignoring the smack Allison landed on his shoulder and the muttered, _Watch your language around the kids.”_

Peter grinned before replying smugly. “Just phased the branch into my world for a few minutes so his foot wouldn’t catch. Simple, really.” 

“S-simple? _Simple?_ Are you ki- God, you smug _fucking asshole,”_ Stiles laughed, pushing at Peter’s shoulder when the fae just laughed. 

His laughter cut off when he remembered who was stood around him and turned to see Allison and one of the school’s teachers looking at him as if he had grown a second head. Peter noticed the shift in his mood, and cut in before Stiles’ scent could grow sour. 

“If there are no other children in trees you need me to collect, I think there was something Stiles was meant to be showing me while I was here.” Peter guided Stiles away with a hand on his back, remembering how more contact could set the boy off like the day before. 

Stiles waved over his shoulder at the hunter and didn’t notice how she numbly waved back, surprised by the genuine smile she saw on the fae’s face when Stiles playfully fought with him. She had felt a sharp stab of fear when she heard Stiles call him an asshole, and then _he pushed him._ Allison was reaching for her knife before she had time to catch up to her body’s movements, but Peter’s warm chuckle had frozen her arm halfway. 

Maybe there was more to the fae than they all realised. 

 

\--- 

 

“Are you sure we can’t just teleport there?” 

_“No,_ Peter. This is the human world so we’re doing things the human way.” 

“The human way takes so long though,” Peter complained, refusing to admit he was pouting. “I could’ve gotten us from the theatre to the fields in a fraction of a second.” 

“Oh my _god,_ are you twelve? Stop complaining, we’re almost at the fields and then we can stop for lunch,” Stiles said, rolling his eyes fondly. 

“I’ve seen fields before, Stiles. In fact, I’ve seen these exact fields through the crows, _and_ my main piece of territory is a small field in the forest. Why are you so adamant on showing me them?” Peter asked. 

“Looking through crows’ eyes isn’t the same as seeing it in person,” Stiles said, avoiding Peter’s question. 

“I highly doubt your empty fields are going to take my breath away, Stiles,” Peter muttered, but stayed silent after, electing to simply enjoy his walk with the human. 

They kept walking for a few more minutes before Peter noticed a large tree in the middle of a field, its thick branches creating a steady enough cover for the ground to be bare of snow. 

“Come on,” Stiles said giddily, grabbing Peter’s hand and pulling him along. 

When they were closer to the tree, safely covered from the snow, Peter noticed the small letters engraved into the large trunk and its lower branches. 

“What are they?” He asked curiously, watching Stiles trace his fingers over some of the carvings. 

“A village tradition.” Stiles moved to the other side of the tree and waited for Peter to follow him. He pointed to a pair of initials slightly hidden beneath a knot in the wood. “My parents’ initials. Once you get married in the village, newlyweds are meant to come here to engrave their initials in the bark for good luck and a long, loving relationship.” 

Stiles wiped at his eyes distractedly before walking a little further around the tree and pointing again. These initials were a little wobblier and not as deep. 

“Melissa and my dad.” Stiles laughed as he continued. “They decided Scott and I should do the honours since we weren’t present the first time they both did it, so it’s not as neat as everyone else’s.”

Peter smiled, an unfamiliar warmth growing behind his chest. He opened and shut his mouth several times, trying to find the right words to say, struggling for the first time in a long while. 

“Do you want to carve ours?” He finally asked, his voice barley above a whisper. 

Stiles didn’t turn to look at him, but after a minute of silence, he nodded and pulled out a small knife from his belt. 

He flinched as the blade touched the wood, a booming voice catching their attention from across the field. 

_“Hey!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aah!! You'll all have to wait to see who's calling out to them and why next week :))) 
> 
> Idk why but I just can't write angst, I try but then I have to resolve it as quick as possible. But it doesn't make sense for Stiles to trust Peter yet, they've only known each other for two days. Peter's just being a clingy fiance and I'll explain why at some point 
> 
> Check out my tumblr - stellewrites


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Peter! Don’t!” Stiles begged, his hands held out, reaching for the fae.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've said this is gonna be 12 chapters, but I'm not 100% sure yet. It's just what I've guessed going by what I have planned 
> 
> So, it was pointed out to me by LeadingLady3 in the comments last week that I hadn't explained why Stiles was so careful about his name, but everyone else uses theirs freely around Peter, and that's bc I'm dumb and I didn't realise I'd done that. But now I'm gonna explain it -  
> Peter has promised to keep the village safe, so taking/stealing their names (their identities, their souls) kind of breaks his end of the deal. And maybe the village has heard rumours or old wives tales have developed over the years that state that fae can't make two deals at once, and since he hasn't completed his deal with Stiles yet, they all feel safe enough to use their names around him. They figure that he probably won't remember them by the time the deal is done anyway (plus Peter is enamoured by Stiles, he's barely noticing the other villagers around them - note how he called Allison 'hunter' even though he had heard Stiles use her name several times only moments before) 
> 
> This update is a little smaller than my others, but the next ones gonna be bigger

Ok, so maybe Stiles _should’ve_ been worried about keeping the villagers in line. 

It should’ve occurred to him when he saw Ali earlier, that the rest of the young hunter group would be in town as well, but the thought of running into Theo and his merry band of morons slipped his mind. 

“Friends of yours?” Peter asked, noticing the tense line of Stiles’ shoulders. 

“Not exactly,” Stiles said on a long-suffering sigh, moving to stand slightly in front of Peter as the hunters came closer. 

“Stilinski! What a surprise to see you here with your _new pet,_ I hope we aren’t interrupting anything.” Theo grinned meanly, his friends’ snickering behind him. 

Stiles frowned and stood more firmly in front of Peter when he heard the fae’s low grumble in protest. 

“What do you want, Theo?” Stiles asked impatiently, crossing his arms. 

“What? I can’t be concerned for the safety of one of my village’s people? I can’t care about you? You know you’ve always been my favourite, Miecz-.” 

“Enough of the bullshit, Theo,” Stiles cut him off before he could say his full name. God, this is the last thing Stiles needed right now, stuck between a bunch of recklessly dumb hunters and a murder-positive fae. He’d have to play his cards right until he could get himself and Peter away. He knew Peter wouldn’t be easily convinced to just teleport them somewhere else, not when these hunters looked to be more ballsy and entertaining than the rest of the village had been, and Stiles had put down his bag at the other side of the tree and didn’t want to leave it behind. 

Theo’s eyes grow dark at being interrupted, his fists clenching at his sides momentarily before a fake smile makes its way onto his face once more. 

_“Fine,”_ he snaps. He motions for his friends to step forward “I was talking to Aiden and Ethan here and we decided we don’t want that _thing_ here in the village. In fact, I think you’re a _fucking idiot_ for bringing it here in the first place. So, we’re here to send it back to where it belongs, if we don’t kill it first that is.” 

Theo’s smile widened to bare his teeth, but Stiles wasn’t afraid of him. It was a poor imitation of Peter’s own sneer, and he knew these boys would fall short against the fae when fighting him as well. He really needed to get them away before they started a fight they couldn’t finish. As much as Stiles loved the idea of seeing the hunters have their asses kicked and be brought down a peg or two, he wasn’t sure the fae would know how to hold himself back against the humans. 

“Theo… You don’t want to do this,” Stiles tried, only receiving a harsh laugh in response from the hunters. 

“Why not?” Aiden asked, pulling a knife from his belt, letting it glint in the low winter sun. 

“Because he’s worried you’ll get yourselves hurt,” Peter spoke up, to Stiles detriment. 

“The fuck did it just say?” Ethan fumed. 

“And he’s not wrong,” Peter continued as if the twin hadn’t spoken. 

“Peter…. Please, let’s just go,” Stiles pleaded quietly, his head turned back towards the fae; the three hunters still in his peripheral. 

“You’re not going anywhere, _fae,”_ Theo spat, pointing his own large blade at Peter menacingly. Peter just raised his eyebrows in amusement. 

“I’m sorry, that sounded like a command. Are you going to _make_ me stay?” Peter riled the hunters up further, his eyes glistening in amusement. 

_“Peter.”_

“Don’t worry Stilinski, once we’re doe with him, I’ll take _real good care of you.”_ Stiles stiffened at Theo’s lascivious tone, subconsciously pressing back into Peter’s broad chest. “You didn’t have to go running into the woods to find a husband, Stilinski. I would’ve _gladly_ made you mine if it meant I could’ve been fucking you ever-.” 

Theo was cut off suddenly by Peter’s snarl. The fae moved too quick for Stiles to stop him and by the time he realised what had happened, Theo was flat on his back; his knife knocked from his hand with Peter poised above him, a clawed hand wrapped tightly around his neck. 

“Peter! Don’t!” Stiles begged, his hands held out, reaching for the fae. Theo’s explicit words had frozen him on the spot for long enough that the fae’s sharp claws where pressed just hard enough for pinpricks of blood to gather on the hunter’s neck. Still, he had recovered from the shock of seeing Peter move so quickly before either of the twins had. They had taken a step back in shock when Peter had suddenly taken their leader down in front of them, eyes blazing and shoulders tense, and hadn’t moved since. Frozen in fear, Stiles guessed. 

The fae let go of a tearful Theo immediately, standing up slowly and turning towards his fiancé, he held eye contact as he clicked his fingers. 

Stiles gasped, his eyes wide. 

“P-Peter, where did they go?” Stiles asked, watching the hunters’ clothes fall to the ground, empty. He darted forward, rifling through the clothes to see if Peter had made them tiny or turned them into frogs or - or _something,_ because Stiles desperately didn’t want to believe the fae would kill them so easily, without a second thought. When he came up with nothing he looked around, hoping to see the outlines of the hunters on the other side of the field, but was disappointed to find they were once again alone. 

Peter watched silently, his posture relaxed as he watched the human heave in angry breaths through his nose, his back turned to the fae. 

It took Stiles a minute to compose himself enough to turn and face him, his jaw clenched tightly. 

“Why aren’t you answering me, Peter?” 

“Why does it matter where they went?” 

“Why does it-- It matters because they’re _people,_ Peter! They’re assholes, sure, but they’re people with lives and _families_ and I don’t know how the fuck I’m meant to explain any of this to the village,” Stiles fumed, tugging at his hair in despair. 

“There’s nothing to explain,” Peter said, stepping forward, though he stopped when he saw Stiles take multiple steps back. “Do you think I killed them?” 

“Why else would you avoid telling me where they are? Why would you be so _fucking_ cryptic with what you’re saying if you weren’t trying to hide something?” Stiles glared. 

Peter tensed, his jaw clenching and his back straightening to his full height. He narrowed his eyes at the human for a moment before scoffing and turning away. 

“If that’s how you feel, maybe I should just go.” 

“Yeah, you should. I think that would be for the best,” Stiles agreed, failing to notice how Peter’s shoulders hunched slightly at his words. “I’m going to head back to the village, try to explain to my dad what happened. _Fuck.”_

Peter nodded, before turning and walking behind Stiles. 

“What are you doing?” Stiles asked, frowning. 

“I’m leaving.” 

“Yeah, ok, but why don’t you just _snap your fingers_ and go?” Stiles was growing agitated. 

“This is the human world, Stiles, so we do things the human way,” Peter mockingly parroted Stiles’ earlier words. 

The human scoffed. 

“Whatever.” 

 

\--- 

 

As they grew closer to the town centre, and the village’s law enforcement building, Stiles could hear what sounded like the entire village gathered in the town square and he could see the edges of the crowd filtering down the street. There were smothered laughs and loud mutterings, but Stiles didn’t know what they were all looking at until he pushed past and rounded a corner and saw three very naked, very embarrassed hunters stuck on the roof of the church. It looked as though someone was fetching a ladder to get them down, but a majority of the village seemed happy to sit idle and laugh at their predicament. 

“Oh my god,” Stiles whispered, before whipping his head round to face Peter. “You…”

“Me,” the fae said with a bitter tone, though his eyes were soft as he looked at Stiles. He leaned in closer to Stiles’ ear, and noted happily that he didn’t flinch away from his proximity again, though his eyes held a note of guilt. “You’ll have to start trusting me at some point, Stiles.” 

 

\--- 

 

Peter left soon after that despite Stiles’ protests, though the human didn’t apologise for thinking Peter had hurt the young hunters. He’s only known Peter for two days, 48 long, exciting hours, but still not long enough for Stiles to feel bad about assuming the worst of Peter; especially after growing up on horrible tales of the forest fae. 

As soon as the fae disappeared, Stiles went looking for his father in the crowd, hoping to get a little more information on what happened, since Peter had stayed so tight lipped before leaving. 

“Hey, dad!” Stiles called out when he spotted him, ducking between the villagers gathered around the church. Stiles noticed Theo had already gotten down and was being led away, covered in blankets, to the healing cabin. The young hunter flinched when he met Stiles’ gaze across the town square, his pace gaining speed as soon as he looked away. Stiles quietly mumbled to himself, “ _Huh,_ guess he won’t be a problem anymore.” 

John was busy listening to some of the villagers’ accounts of what happened when Stiles stumbled into his side. 

“What’s going on?” 

John levelled him with a flat look before taking his son’s arm in his grip and pulling him aside from the crowd. 

“I’ll be right back with you in a minute, Mr Mahealani,” he called over his shoulder. 

Once they were a few steps away from prying ears, John turned to his son. 

“Why do I have the feeling you know exactly what’s going on?” 

“Because trouble has a way of finding me?” Stiles tried to shrug innocently.

John chuckled dryly, shaking his head fondly at his son. 

“Wait. Is Peter not with you?” John asked uneasily, his smile falling from his face as he looked around to try and spot the fae. 

“Oh, no. It’s ok, he’s gone home. It’s been a, uh, a surprisingly _eventful_ day.”

John looked up at the church roof where one of the twins was carefully making his way down the ladder, wrapped in a blanket. 

“Mhm, I bet.” 

Stiles rolled his eyes. 

“They started it.” He gestured to the shivering hunters, before muttering. “I thought he killed them at first, so this is a major improvement.” 

The sheriff’s eyebrows raised to his hairline. 

“I’m sorry, _what?”_

 _“Nothing,_ it doesn’t matter. I’ll tell you later, ok? I’m gonna go find Scott, see if he needs help looking for work. See you later, pops!” Stiles spoke quickly, jogging backwards and bumping into numerous villagers. His father winced at the looks he was getting and finally shooed him away with a flippant hand gesture. 

“Just go. But you’ll definitely be telling me later, Mietek. Don’t think I won’t remember to ask!” 

“Ah, shit,” Stiles mumbled to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all probably knew that whoever was shouting them wasn't gonna be friendly, but did you guess it was gonna be Theo and the twins?? 
> 
> Also Peter was annoyed with Stiles bc he feels like Stiles would at least have more faith in him than the hunters. He's seeing now that, although Stiles can be comfortable and almost carefree around him, he still agrees with Theo, in that he thinks of Peter as a monster with no self control 
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed it! Comments/kudos/concrit are always welcome :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Time,” he scoffed. “I’ve been alive for hundreds of years, but the idea of waiting for Stiles to trust me feels like it’ll take ten times longer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God I know I've been gone for so long,,,, I'm sorry guys I promise I haven't abandoned this fic! It will be finished!  
> Anyway here's chap 7 finally and some quicker updates for the next few days to make up for the ones I missed
> 
> Comments/kudos are always appreciated and get my arse in gear and remind me to keep writing! 
> 
> Check out my tumblr and come shout at me to update more regularly - stellewrites

“What do you mean you ‘just left’? _Peter._ That’s not how humans deal with things, you can’t just leave when things get tough. You said it yourself, you like the Spark because he stands up for himself, and yet as soon as he did so in a way you don’t necessarily approve of, you got pissy and stormed off?” The petite banshee asked, unimpressed. Her eyes were as red as her hair, and in the waning sunlight, she made for a deadly and beautiful figure. 

“On the contrary, that is exactly how humans deal with things, and I didn’t get pissy, Mar. And even if I did, I’d have a right to! He’s going to be my husband, part of my soul, and yet he treats me the same as the rest of his village do; with contempt, disgust, and fear. Only he thinks he’s hiding it. And to his credit sometimes it works, and I forget he flinches at my every other move, but other times it takes all of my restraint not to rise to his expectations and burn his village to the ground. At least the other humans have the respect not to pretend as he does.” 

“Peter…”

“I don’t want to hear it, Martin. I didn’t come here for your pity,” he spat. 

“Then what did you come for?” 

Peter was silent. 

Lydia sighed. “Come, sit. I won’t offer you pity, Peter, but I will offer you an ear and some advice. So, go ahead, tell me everything.” 

“It frustrates me. _He_ frustrates me. It’s as if he purposely forgets what I am, what I do. He accepts parts of me, but not all and he needs to learn that this marriage won’t work that way. It can’t.”

“So, tell him. Use your words and explain this to him. You’re a fae, you grew up with these traditions and you’re expecting him to know the same amount about your culture as you do. How can he trust and accept all of you, when he doesn’t know what that entails? The only knowledge he has, of any of us, comes from the village’s biased tales and the books he gave you.” 

“I took him here, on our first day together,” Peter added petulantly, knowing she was right. 

Lydia scoffed. 

“And I bet you told him all about what the stones around your Ring mean,” Lydia spoke sarcastically, her eyebrows rising loftily. 

Peter turned away, frowning. 

“I know you don't like me bringing them up, but you can’t blame him for being wary. You’ve only known each other for a few days, and humans experience time differently, you know that.” 

“I know,” Peter huffed. “It’s just… One moment he’ll be pushing into me for comfort or protection and then flinching away in the next. It’s infuriating. Every time I think we’re making progress he jumps back five steps.” 

“All his life he’s been told that you only hurt people like him. This will be hard for him too. You need to be patient and show him you’re not like that, telling him isn’t good enough. When he sees how gentle you can be, he’ll be more inclined to lean into your touch, yes? Give the boy some time.” 

“Time,” he scoffed. “I’ve been alive for hundreds of years, but the idea of waiting for Stiles to trust me feels like it’ll take ten times longer.” 

“Stop being so dramatic. He must trust you some if he came here alone on your first day together. He feels it the same as you, even if he doesn’t know it yet, let the bond settle.” The banshee squeezed his shoulder in comfort. “Now, enough about your problems, how was the village? My headaches have stopped since you made the deal with the boy, I haven’t had to scream nearly as much as I used to in the winter.” 

 

\---

 

Peter decided to give Stiles some space and didn’t visit the village the next day, thinking the human would probably want some time alone with his family, so he was very surprised when he felt himself summoned near the edge of the forest. 

“Stiles, you called?” 

“Oh my god, where did you come fr- Doesn’t matter,” Stiles jumped at the fae’s sudden appearance. “I uh, well I mean, I kind of called, I guess? I was going to come see you. I was just weighing up the pros and cons of going in the forest on my own again, I know you said I’d be safe with my ring, but…”

“But giant spiders?” Peter finished for him, laughing. 

“Exactly.” Stiles grinned. 

“Well, you must’ve been fidgeting with it,” Peter Said, nodding to Stiles’ wedding ring. 

Stiles frowned. 

“It’s connected to me, so when you touch it and think of me, I can sense it.”

“’When you touch it and think of me?’ Oh my god, Peter, you couldn’t have phrased that _any_ other way?” Stiles said in between laughter. 

Peter grinned as he took a step towards his fiancé. He was always more open to Peter’s teasing advances when he was in an open, good mood. 

“Why were you so desperate to see me again, Stiles?” He asked, gripping Stiles hips loosely as he stepped into his space. 

“’Desperate’? Excuse _you!_ I was just checking to see if you’d been eaten on your way home, it’s kinda hard to marry a corpse, you know,” Stiles joked, relaxing into Peter’s hold, and letting one of his own hands rest on the fae’s forearm. 

“Oh, ok. Just some friendly concern, not at all because you missed me after spending a day apart or because your heart was calling out for me, huh?” Peter teased dramatically. 

“Exactly,” Stiles said on a breathy laugh, before sobering. “But seriously, where were you yesterday? I thought you were maybe still mad about the whole Theo thing.”

“No, I’m not mad, sweet fox,” he said softly. “Maybe frustrated with myself, but not you. I was callous and hypocritical. We _both_ need to work on our conversation skills if this is going to work.” 

Stiles nodded. “I should start being more open about how I’m feeling around you. I don’t remember reading anything about faes being able to read minds,” he said jokingly, pleased when he saw Peter’s lips tilt at the edges. 

“You never know, can’t reveal _all_ of my tricks. And it was unfair of me to expect you to trust me so soon and without knowing that much about me.” Peter took a deep breath, as if gaining courage. “So, maybe we could spend our time together talking, learning more about each other directly, instead of learning more about where we both live, as fun as that’s been so far.” 

“Sounds like a plan, big bad.” Stiles smiled. 

 

\--- 

 

They had been sat on the unforgiving branch for almost two hours, but not even Peter’s supernatural strength could have moved him from his spot, hidden behind winding branches and bushy leaves. Stiles had worried he would be too fidgety to be able to sit and watch the two baby dragons hatch in front of them, but the parents had seemed to take one look at him and decide he was no threat.

“I kinda thought they’d be bigger. All the tales of knights defeating dragons suddenly seem a lot less impressive now that I know they’re the same size as a cat,” Stiles whispered against Peter’s ear. The light caress of his breath made the fae shudder, and before he could answer, Stiles elbowed him hard, his excitement causing him to momentarily lose control of his limbs. “Oh my god, it’s happening.”

Peter brought his finger to his lips in the universal sign of ‘for the love of god, Stiles, _shut up’._ The dragons would only tolerate so much during the birth of their fledglings. 

They waited with baited breath as three little heads popped out of an egg, its scales were dull and soft, but over the next few days they would form into a hard armour. He watched as the father cleaned up the first dragon while the mother helped the second push out of its shell, and noticed they kept looking over at where Stiles and Peter were sat. He shifted on the branch nervously, thinking the dragons had grown tired of their presence and wanted to deal with their babies alone.

“They want you to hold them,” Peter said before Stiles had the chance to ask to leave. 

“What?”

“That’s why they keep looking over here, they’re waiting for you to welcome them over.” Peter smiled softly.

“Why would they want me to hold them? Are you sure you’re not reading this wrong?” Stiles asked, clenching his hands in his coat nervously. 

“Stiles. You’re a _Spark,_ some species can sense that and find comfort in it instead of fear. Your powers can bring great joy,” Peter paused, looking at Stiles’ hesitant face. “I won’t let you hurt them, if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

Stiles let out a breath, his tense shoulders loosening. “Ok. How do I show them they’re welcome?” 

“You already did.” The fae nudged him lightly and nodded towards where the small dragons were slowly crawling along the branches, their fledglings clutched carefully in their maws. They made a small leap towards Stiles, and he automatically reached his hands out to catch them, but their wide wings let them land softly in his lap. The mother immediately pawed at Stiles’ hand until it covered her young like a blanket, while the father started digging into his coat to make room for the second fledgling. 

Stiles cradled them closer, shy under the sharp gazes of the dragon parents. 

“What am I meant to be doing?” Stiles whispered once more. 

“Letting your power give them strength.”

“And how do I do that again?” 

Peter lifted his hand, but hesitated momentarily. He looked to Stiles before placing his hands on top of the human’s, looking for permission that came in a quick nod. 

“Close your eyes, focus on where you can feel your Spark the strongest and then release it. Feel it flow to your hands. Don’t worry about overloading, I’ll help keep you at bay, you won’t hurt anyone.”

Stiles nodded and closed his eyes after studying Peter’s face for a moment. 

He felt the tell tail pins and needles of his spark move through his chest to his arms and finally into his palms. He was still nervous about controlling his power flow, but Peter gently squeezed his palms over Stiles’ and he felt some of his worry and tension fall away. He trusted Peter not to get them attacked by the dragons, if only because it would affect Peter negatively as well. 

“There, see?” He heard the fae say, and opened his eyes to see the baby dragons’ tongues peek out to scent the air. “They can taste your power in the air around them. Feeling it directly will give them strength.” 

“I didn’t know I could do this without using runes to channel it…” Stiles admitted. 

“You’ve just never had the right teacher.”

“I’ve never had a teacher _full stop,_ and I gave you the only books I had on the subject.”

“Then I guess I’ll have to teach you,” Peter said, pulling Stiles’ hands away from the dragons. They were quickly swooped up by their parents and taken back to the nest. Stiles didn’t notice that Peter hadn’t let go of his hand until he felt him tug his wrist down, urging him to slip down onto the branch below with him. “Come on, I’ll show you how you can use your Spark to call to the creatures in the forest.” 

Peter started directing him back to his Ring as soon as he was out of the tree, and Stiles didn’t pull his hand free of Peter’s, even though he knew he wouldn’t struggle to follow the fae back. 

He watched the fae tilt his head back and breathe through his slightly open mouth. 

“There’s a horde of Pegasus coming by, I think you should be able to reach them.” Peter nodded to himself. 

“And how exactly do I do that?” 

Peter moved to stand behind him, close enough Stiles could feel his breath, but they weren’t touching. 

“Concentrate on your Spark, the same way you made it travel to your hands, push it to your throat.”

“My throat?” 

“I didn’t realise I’d need to repeat such simple instructions, maybe I should call you my simple fox.”

“God, shut _up._ I’m doing it.” Stiles grumbled and closed his eyes, he could just _tell_ Peter was smirking behind him. 

“Once you feel it at the back of your throat, breathe out.” 

Stiles frowned, but did as he was told. Taking in a deep breath through his nose, he willed his Spark to move through his body again, before breathing out through his mouth. 

_“Perfect.”_ Stiles shivered at the whispered praise. 

“Now what?”

“We wait. Shh, it won’t be long.” He added when he saw the impatient twist of Stiles’ mouth. 

It only took a few minutes for Stiles to hear the sound of hooves against the forest floor. He stiffened against Peter’s chest, his heart beating rapidly in excitement and apprehension. He didn’t know what to expect from the Pegasus. Maybe they’d be Shetland ponies with tiny fluffy wings, or would they all be slightly different? Some with the iconic mix of bird wings, but others with strong stalk legs, or beady eyes and beaks… 

They were just like they were described in his bedtime tales; tall and strong, with wide spread, white wings and beating hooves. Stiles was breathless at the sight of them wading out of the forest edge. 

Stiles started to raise his hand, but Peter quickly caught his wrist. 

“They’re a lot more violent than the stories would like to portray. You can’t touch one until it decides it will let you.”

“And how will I know it’s decided?”

Peter dipped his head. “Not going to ask if it’ll let you touch it?” 

“You wouldn’t have made me bring them here if you didn’t think I could handle it.” Stiles shrugged, hoping his blush wasn’t too evident on his face as Peter smiled proudly over his shoulder. 

“True. You’re starting to be able to read me.” Peter didn’t seem put out by this notion. 

They were distracted by the aggravated huff of one of the larger Pegasus. 

“That one.” Peter nodded in its direction. “That’s the one you’ll bond with.”

“Wh- Peter that’s the _angriest looking_ one, are you _crazy?”_ But Stiles’ complaints were cut off when the fae suddenly pushed him forward with the whispered advice of channel your Spark to your palm. 

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” Stiles chanted under his breath as he slowly made his way closer to the Pegasus. 

It had snorted a sharp breath when Stiles had moved forward, its front hooves digging harder into the ground. The others behind it all reared their heads in faint interest of the being moving towards them. 

Stiles tried to push his Spark towards his palm like he had with the dragons, but he didn’t have Peter’s heavy palms covering his own, nor did he have the warmth of the fae at his back, his encouraging whispers in his ear. But Peter wouldn’t have gotten Stiles into this if he didn’t think he was capable, the fae openly held distaste for humans, but in the short time they had known each other, he had shown time and time again that he’d protect Stiles. 

With those thoughts in mind, Stiles took a deep breath as he held his palm out, proud to see it was no longer shaking. He was within arms-length of the Pegasus by now, and saw how it froze when he made eye contact. Gently, he laid his palm on its snout, rubbing his thumb lightly against the short hairs above its nose. 

“There we go, I’m not here to hurt you.” He could feel his power bleeding into the Pegasus and the air around him and a sudden hit of anxiety burst in him. “Peter, what if I’m using too much power?” 

Peter was at his side in seconds, a comforting hand resting on his lower back through his winter coat. 

“You only had to control the flow for the new-borns, adults can deal with the overflow a lot better. It can depend on the creature as well, but most of us won’t be injured by it,” the fae shrugged. When he saw Stiles still wasn’t mollified, he added, “We’re in my territory right now, even if you were on the opposite side of the field to me, I could still help keep the flow of your power steady.”

That made Stiles pause. 

“Were you helping me?” He thought Peter had to be touching him to help control his power, but it made sense that Peter’s powers grew stronger in his own territory. A small voice in the back of his head whispered that he should be terrified that Peter could control his powers at all, but Stiles ignored it. 

“Not much, you’re a quick learner, Stiles. And whatever you were thinking about seemed to have calmed your Spark enough for you to lower the power of it significantly in comparison to your first try. I’m only holding back a fraction of what I had to before,” Peter said with awe, his eyes shining with pride and wonder. 

The Pegasus nudged its head into Stiles’ palm forcefully, demanding his attention again. 

“Are you ready to ride it?” Peter suddenly asked, his voice a little _too_ gleeful for Stiles’ taste. 

Stiles eyes widened. “ _Ride_ it? What are you- _Wait!_ Peter, put me down!” 

Stiles had barely gotten situated on the horse before it started galloping forwards, its wings beating heavily against the wind. 

_I’m going to fucking kill him,_ Stiles thought as he gripped tight to the Pegasus’ mane as it took flight. He felt his stomach drop at the feeling of the biting wind against his face. 

 

\---

 

Stiles’ legs were like jelly when he touched the ground once more, but he still had enough strength to make Peter wince when he punched his arm. 

“You’re such a dick, Peter, I can’t believe I’m engaged to you,” he huffed. Peter paused momentarily, always taken by surprise when Stiles brought up their marriage voluntarily and without a frown. 

“At least you know our marriage will never be boring,” the fae joked. 

Stiles just shook his head, trying to hide the smile breaking out on his face. 

“Where are they going?” He asked, changing the subject and nodding towards the herd of Pegasus roaming back into the woods. 

“Probably back to Greece.” 

“You’re kidding me…” 

“No, why would I joke about that?” Peter frowned, not understanding Stiles’ disbelief. 

“How the hell did they get here then? It doesn’t make sense, surely someone would see a group of horses flying around.” 

“It’s a _magic forest,_ Stiles. Literally in the name.” 

Stiles rolled his eyes at Peter’s sarcasm. 

“The forest spreads out further in this plane than it does in yours, and there’s a… A connection for lack of a better word, between all magical areas in the world, so we’re not necessarily always in Beacon Hills when we see some of these creatures, despite only walking for an hour or so in the forest,” Peter continued to explain. 

“We’ve been travelling all over the world and I didn’t even know? Stiles said, seemingly distressed. 

“It’s ok, Stiles. You know that time moves differently here, well, space is different too,” Peter tried to soothe him. 

“Where have we been?” 

“Australia, Ireland, Brazil…” Peter said hesitantly. 

“Oh my god I’ve been to _Australia_ and I didn’t even get Scott a souvenir. He’s going to kill me…” Stiles said dejectedly.

“Wha… Is _that_ what you’re worried about?” Peter asked, shocked. 

“You’ve never seen how sad his eyes go and how guilty it makes you feel, Peter! I am well within my rights to be dreading going home and telling him where I’ve been going all this time,” Stiles argued. 

“Where you’ve _technically_ been going.” 

_“Technically,_ you’re not helping.” 

“Just don’t tell him,” the fae suggested. 

“Don’t tell- I’m not going to _lie_ to him.” Peter opened his mouth to argue, but Stiles cut him off. “Lying by mission is still lying, Peter. My dad’s told me that one enough times for it to stick…” 

Peter chuckled. “Next time we go somewhere we can bring something back for him, ok?” 

Sties nodded, mollified. “Thanks, Big Bad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all already know the pegasus bit was inspired by that prisoner of azkaban scene 
> 
> And Lydia's called Martin or Mar bc she's not dumb enough to tell a fae her proper name, even if they are friends (i know, how weird is it that I chose Lydia to be mates with Peter out of everyone) 
> 
> also don't you love how Peter's only teaching Stiles how to use his Spark for cute good things bc he knows his boy won't appreciate learning how to stop a man's heart with the flick of his wrist


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Do you want me to tell you about her?” He asked softly, his voice almost covered by the wind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna try to get back onto a regular posting schedule again after I post this. One of my shorter chapters, but more peter/stiles bonding 
> 
> a lil bit of angst in this chappie btw

“It’s just around the corner, Peter, come on,” Stiles said excitedly, dragging Peter by the hand around the outskirts of the village and one of the further fields. “Me and Scott used to play in the river all the time as kids, but after rumours spread of a big cat attacking a nearby village when they were by the river, we weren’t allowed anymore.” 

“A Bunyip.”

“A what?” Stiles said, looking over his shoulder as he kept pulling Peter forward. He didn’t notice Peter gently guiding him out of the way of rocks and other trip hazards, lightly pulling his arm to the left or right. 

“A bunyip is a large cat-like demon that lurks in deep waters, likes big prey,” Peter shrugged casually. “I remember one being I the area a few years back.” 

“Shit, kind of glad my dad stopped letting us play here,” Stiles said, his pace slowing significantly. He eyed the river several yards in front of them as if the bunyip was about to jump out at any second. 

“I’d be able to tell if it was here, the water would be unnaturally calm.” Peter squeezed Stiles’ hand, and started walking closer to the river bed. 

“I don’t know, Peter. Maybe we should go to the forest again, I could try calling to the creatures again or something,” Stiles said, not taking his eyes off the rushing water. 

Peter turned to reply, a teasing smirk on his lips, when a sudden splash from the water had them both tensing and spinning towards the riverbed. 

A very soggy and sad looking dog climbed out of the rushing water. 

“Holy fucking shit, I think I just had a heart attack,” Stiles laughed hysterically into Peter’s shoulder. “And you! Why’d you jump if you knew that there wasn’t anything hiding in the water, huh?” 

“I said I knew there wasn’t a bunyip, there could’ve been something else, some more dumb hunters from your village maybe,” Peter said, raising a brow at Stiles, but the boy just rolled his eyes. 

“Sure, Big Bad, I believe you.” 

By this point the shivering dog had cautiously made its way closer to the two men, sniffing the air intermittently. 

“Aw, Peter, look. She must be freezing,” Stiles said sadly. He crouched a few paces in front of the scraggly dog and held his hand out for it. “Come on girl, we won’t hurt you.” 

He looked up at Peter and gestured for him to crouch next to him, ignoring the fae rolling his eyes he whistled lightly to get the dog to come closer. 

“Can you dry her off if she gets close enough?” Stiles asked, smiling kindly at the dripping dog in front of them as it slowly made its way closer. 

“Of course.” Peter nodded. “Do you have any food on you?”

“Some trail mix, but nothing substantial,” Stiles said sadly and frowned, noticing the dog’s thin frame. “She’s a stray.”

Peter nodded and held his hand out for the dog to sniff when it was close enough, before running it down her back, gently drying and warming her up. 

“Think the sheriff could do with a little helper?” Peter tried to joke, but saw the sadness in Stiles’ eyes when he said it. “What?” 

“Scottie’s allergic to dogs, it’s why I’ve never had a pet.” Stiles sighed sadly, lightly stroking the dog’s head. “Even if I came here every day, she still wouldn’t survive the winter.”

Peter spoke before he even knew he’d made a decision. 

“I’ll take her.”

“What? Really?” Stile asked, wide eyed. 

“Sure, I know someone who’ll love her.” He shrugged, a light blush spreading across his cheeks at the sight of Stiles’ broad grin and the feeling of his hand squeezing his wrist in thanks. 

“What should we call her?” Stiles asked as she stepped closer, growing brave once she realised they wouldn’t hurt her. 

“Big Bad?” Peter grinned at Stiles indignant squawk. 

“Then what am I meant to call you?” 

Peter pretended to think or moment, before cupping Stiles’ cheek and whispering, “Husband.” 

Stiles sputtered, his face and neck bright red. 

“You’re _not_ calling her Big Bad, she’s too cute and harmless.”

The fae just raised his brow, nodding towards where the dog in question was cheekily nibbling on Peter’s hand, her tail wagging shyly behind her. 

“I wouldn’t call her harmless, she’s practically _mauling_ me and I haven’t had her for more than ten minutes,” he said with faux seriousness, his brightly amused eyes giving him away. 

Stiles melted at the sight of the fae acting so… _Soft_ and kind. He was smiling fondly at Stiles, his free hand still resting near the boy’s neck and warmth seeped into the human’s chest where their sides were grazing. Stiles didn’t know if the fae ran hot or if his own heart was to blame for the warmth he was feeling. It was in moments like this that Stiles forgot Peter was a killer and a fae. 

“Come on, fox, let’s get her home,” Peter said with a squeeze to his arm, interrupting his thoughts. 

“Yeah, ok.” He nodded and rushed to stand, only narrowly missing hitting Peter when he threw his arms out to gain balance. 

They walked back to the edge of the forest, the dog happily trailing after them once she’d realised they wanted her to follow, though she grew slightly uneasy and restless as they got closer to the woods. 

“So… I’ll see you later?” Stiles asked, scuffing his shoe in the dirt. 

“Of course, you can’t get rid of me that easily.” Stiles looked up and grinned, watching as Peter lifted the apprehensive dog into his arms, preparing to head back to the magic realm. 

“Good,” the human whispered with a firm nod. He stepped forward to pet the dog one last time. “You’ll be ok, Big Bad Jr., don’t worry. Peter will look after you or else.” Stiles said, giving Peter a stern look; though he only got an eye roll in return. 

“See you later, sweetheart.” Peter said before turning and walking into the forest. Stiles had managed to convince the fae that the dog would probably appreciate teleporting as much as he did, if not even less so. 

Stiles watched them go, before heading back to his own home; it was his turn to make dinner. 

 

\--- 

 

“Could you tell me more about the different Planes on Earth and the different creatures?” Stiles asked, splashing his legs in the water of the pool they had visited on Stiles’ first trip to the magic realm. They were sat on a rock together and Peter had shown Stiles how to use his magic to heat up a small area of the water. 

“I can do you one better, sweetheart. I’ll find you some books I have on the subjects and you can read them to your heart’s content. They’ll be your books soon enough anyway,” Peter said as he lifted Stiles left hand and rubbed his thumb over the smooth ring. 

“Even…” Stiles hesitated. 

“Even what?” 

“Even my mom’s books? I know I gave them to you as a gift and part of our deal, but… They’re the last thing I have left of her.” Stiles trailed off, fidgeting with his coat sleeve and avoiding Peter’s gaze. 

Peter squeezed his hand, his skin warm and smooth, unlike Stiles calloused palms. 

_“Of course,_ Stiles. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have waited this long to give you them back, I know how much they must mean to you.” 

Stiles looked up at that. “Thanks, Peter.” 

He squeezed the fae’s hand back. 

They sat in silence for after that, Stiles feeling overwhelmed and Peter not wanting to push him too far. But after a while, Sties spoke up, not one for sitting still or keeping quiet for too long. 

“Do you want me to tell you about her?” He asked softly, his voice almost covered by the wind. 

“I’d love to hear your stories about her,” Peter said genuinely. “But only if you want to tell me, don’t feel pressured into sharing if you’re not ready yet.” 

Stiles nudged their shoulders together. “You’re such a fucking sap sometimes, Petey.” 

He sighed before leaning a little heavier into the fae’s side, distractedly splashing his toes against the water’s surface. 

“She used to make this spicy, cheesy bread and the whole village would go mad for it. No one knew how she made it, and no one could recreate it, no matter how hard they tried,” Stiles laughed. “She promised to tell me the secret to making it when I got older, but she-. She had other things on her mind when she got near the end.” 

He ran a hand through his hair roughly. 

“The village would talk about the creatures in the forest as if they were a curse, warning children to stay as far away from the woods as possible, to never go out past a certain time, and most importantly, to never give your name to a fae.” 

“You’ve never been good at following the rules, have you, little fox?” Peter mused, his tone fond and arm firm around Stiles’ waist. How Stiles hadn’t noticed the warmth wrap around him, he doesn’t know, he’ll chalk it up to being distracted by his memories. 

“Yeah, you’d think I’d be a model citizen since my dad’s the sheriff.” Stiles shrugged. 

“You’d be boring if you were a model citizen, I like you just as you are.” Peter grinned when he noticed a blush rise to Stiles cheeks. 

_“Anyway,_ the village would be talking shit about anything non-human, but not my mom. As soon as we were behind closed doors she’d be telling me tales of Jackalopes in the Spring, how deep in the forest the prettiest flowers bloomed in the winter, how the fae were sly, _yes,_ but so were humans.”

“I think I would’ve liked her,” Peter said softly. 

“Yeah, she was great.” Stiles smiled sadly. “At night, when my dad was on patrol, she’d tell me about how the creatures in the forest should be respected, not feared like the village wanted. How even dad was wrong about them. I always listened to her, thought her word was law, but as she got sicker… She got less careful about what she’d say and when she’d say it.” 

Stiles face scrunched up in pain, his voice became thin. “She told me that I shouldn’t listen to the rest of the village because they were closed minded and ignorant; they didn’t know of the beauty the magical world offered and never would. That I should run into the forest and never look back, that I’d be happier here. She’d cry and become angry, lash out until I promised I’d leave. But she never spoke a word about my Spark if we weren’t alone.” 

Stiles took a deep breath, clenching his fists to stop them from shaking and sitting on them when it didn’t work. “Some of the things she described… She couldn’t have _known_ about them if she hadn’t- If she _wasn’t-.”_ He turned to Peter, seemingly looking for an answer in the fae’s eyes. 

When he didn’t find what he was looking for he shook his head, looking away. “By time I was old enough to learn how to control my Spark, she was too weak and half the things she spoke of didn’t seem real or make sense. The village almost found out about me when she died, I couldn’t control the outburst of power and caused a small earthquake. Dad was able to play it off after, calm everyone down, but I know some people have always been suspicious of me since, and I haven’t always been good at hiding it.” 

“She’d be proud of how far you’ve come in using your Spark, Stiles. You’re a brilliant, young man and it sounds like she just wanted the best for you,” Peter said quietly. He squeezed his waist lightly and looked out across the small body of water. They sat in silence for several minutes, Peter seemed to be debating with himself. “I want to show you something.” 

“I don’t know, Peter,” Stiles started wearily, wiping at his damp eyes. “I think I just want to go home, I’m not in the mood for Yetis or Chupacabra today.”

“Please, Stiles. It’s important to me.” 

Stiles sighed lightly and nodded.

“Ok, Peter. Lead the way.”

Peter took his hand once more and led Stiles back towards the faerie ring in silence. 

Once they got there, Peter stopped near the edge of the circle and bent down towards a patch of Ivory Funnel. His hand hovered reverently before he pushed the mushrooms back far enough that Stiles could see a rock with what looked like a rune carved into the middle. When he stepped closer he could see more shapes below, though they weren’t anything Stiles could read or recognise. 

“What is it?” 

“They’re tombstones,” Peter whispered, rubbing a thumb across the triskele engraved in the stone. “My family’s.” 

Stiles’ eyes widened as he looked closer to each patch of Ivory Funnel surrounding the faerie ring, noticing a small stone hidden beneath them all. There were well over a dozen of patches of mushrooms.

“Are- Are _all_ of your family…” Stiles trailed off, not wanting to make Peter uncomfortable, but unable to curb his curiosity. 

“Yes. I’m the only one of my clan left.”

“Peter, I-.” Stiles shut his mouth with a clack, knowing empty platitudes never made him feel better. Instead he knelt next to Peter and placed his hand on top of the fae’s, hoping his touch would comfort him somehow. “Do you want to tell me about them?” 

Peter nodded after a short pause. 

“My sister, Talia, was the clan leader, and she had three children, Laura, Derek, and Cora.” Peter began telling Stiles short stories relating to each clan member, his heart feeling all at once heavier and lighter for sharing memories of his family. “There was a hunter family travelling around, targeting fae, and one of Talia’s… Ally is a strong word for fae, but I don’t know how else to describe it you, but they were in danger and Talia offered to help them out to repay a debt. I lost a lot of my clan because of those hunters, and those that did survive grew ill from the clan bonds breaking. Fae aren’t meant to be solitary creatures, by nature we stick in groups, but not all of us could take the loss. Over the years the remaining clan members grew reckless and I slowly added to my Ring.” 

Stiles gripped Peter’s wrist tightly when he saw the fae’s eyes glaze over. “Thank you for telling me.”

“Of course, little fox.”

\--- 

 

Stiles was up early a few days later, sat in his back yard, staring up at the rising sun behind the soft clouds, when he had the sudden thought that he wished Peter was there with him. 

Sitting and watching the sun rise and fall, enjoying each other’s company in an easy silence, taking in the beautiful colours of the sky as the morning began. 

_I wonder if Peter can see the sunrise from inside the forest. He really would love to see this,_ he jolted up straight, his eyes wide as the thoughts of Peter kept flooding through his mind. 

Did he _like_ Peter?

“Oh _fuck,_ ” he whispered. 

“You ok out there, Stiles?” His dad stuck his head out of the back door, getting ready for his early patrol of the village. 

“’M fine, dad!” Stile called back, hoping his dad didn’t notice his flushed face and strained voice, or that he’d blame it on the morning chill at least.   
John narrowed his eyes at his son, but let it go, heading back inside to finish his breakfast. 

Stiles had some things to think about, but now wasn’t the time. He’d wait until he could talk to Scott about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honestly Stiles, you think the magical forest full of magical creatures would be safer and less likely to have bunyips and other people eating demons there?? really??


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Eager, little fox?”
> 
> “Shut up and get in the bed,” Stiles laughed into his shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a couple of days late :// but its here at least!!
> 
> Kudos keep me going and I love reading your comments, I always try to reply!  
> check out my tumblr if you wana just chat or give me prompts or suggestions for this fic - stellewrites
> 
> Hope you enjoy!!

Stiles was vibrating out of his skin the next morning and could barely wait for his dad and Melissa to leave the house before he grabbed Scott and sat him down at the table.

“Ok, so what I’m going to tell you, can’t leave this house. Not even Allison can know, Scott,” Stiles said, trying hard not to fiddle with his ring after Peter told him he could feel it.

“Sure, Mietek, are you ok?” Scott asked worriedly, frowning.

“Me? Yeah, I’m _fine!_ More than fine maybe, good, _great_ even, you’re meant to feel great when you’re engaged, right?”

Scott face fell into one of understanding and regret. “Are you rethinking the whole deal after spending more time with… With Peter. Maybe we could find something he’d want more than you o-.”

“No!” Stiles threw his hands forward, startling Scott into silence. “Kind of the opposite, actually…”

“What do you mean?”

“I think I like him? Peter, maybe? Just a little bit?” Stiles held his fingers slightly apart to signify how much he liked the fae. 

“You… You like him?” Scott asked with raised brows.

“Yeah. He’s not as bad as I first thought.” Stiles tried to shrug casually. “It’s amazing, Scott, I’ve never felt so comfortable in myself before and he helped me feel like that. I was always on edge because of my spark before, but now I can control it it’s not worrying me anymore, I don’t have to worry I’m going to hurt anyone.”

Stiles saw Scott’s apprehensive expression and frowned. “Peter hasn’t been teaching me anything bad, just how to help animals and release my excess energy in a positive way. Even dad must’ve noticed how settled I’ve been recently.”

“I know, and I’m glad you’re learning more about your powers, but… How do you know he’s not using you?”

“Because I just _do._ I don’t know how, but I just know,” Stiles argued, his hand subconsciously coming to rest on his sternum, just above his Spark. “Plus, what does he gain form teaching me how to help an injured bird? Seriously Scott, I can finally use my powers safely, magic’s not just dangerous like the village think. I can use it for good!” 

“I’m happy for you Stiles, _I am._ But I can’t help but worry, you’re my brother and I love you, but you know my mom always told us to be wary of fae.”

“Yeah, I know, Scottie, that’s why I can only trust you with this. Dad would flip and I’m not ready to explain this to him yet, he was always jumpy around mom when she talked about my Spark.” 

“Not to mention he isn’t Peter’s biggest fan either.”

“Exactly.”

“But you’ll have to tell him how you feel eventually, so that he doesn’t show up to the wedding with his shotgun.” Scott nudged him teasingly.

“I still need to figure out exactly how I feel about Peter before I go talking to my dad about it. I don’t know if I trust him yet, but I think I want to. He can just be so sweet sometimes, and after we talked about our families, our losses… I don’t know, it just seemed like we’ve gotten closer recently. Like it’s less like I’m selling my soul and more that we’re sharing them? If that makes sense?” Stiles frowned at his clumsy explanation, but he couldn’t put words to how he felt when Peter let his guard down around him.

“Not at all.” Scott shrugged, but grinned. “But it sounds like something you’d say if you really liked him.”

“Ugh, shut up,” Stiles laughed, pushing at his brother’s shoulder and moving too slow to avoid his brother’s retaliation.

They were too busy riving around to notice Stiles dad slip out of the front door again. 

 

\--- 

 

“Mieczyslaw, can I talk to you?” John asked later that evening.

“Ooh, full name? What did you do this time, Mietek?” Scott laughed, dodging Stiles sharp jab to his ribs.

“Sure, pops, what’s up?” Stiles followed his dad through to the kitchen, not noticing Melissa shuffle Scott out of the room.

“I had to come home this morning because I forgot my gloves, and I overheard your conversation with Scott,” he said bluntly.

Stiles heart thundered in his chest and his face went pale.

“I didn’t- What did you hear, exactly?” Stiles swallowed thickly, not wanting to give his dad any more information about his conversation that morning than he already had.

“Enough to know you’re not going back there. The forest. I forbid it.”

“I’m sorry, you _forbid_ it? I’m 21 years old, dad, you can’t forbid me to do anything. And you know what, that’s not even the point, you’re listening in to my conversations now?” Stiles grew angry quickly.

“I didn’t realise you had so much to hide from me, but I’m glad you didn’t notice me. How long would it have taken you to talk to me about this? For me to fully realise this- This _monster_ has you under some sort of spell? It’s best we try to break it now, and if he comes for you, the village will be ready to fight.”

“The village won’t stand a chance. Dad, _please,_ I made an unbreakable bond with Peter, I’m going to have to go back there at some point to get married and finish my end of the deal. You can’t stop that.”

“Watch me.”

“No. I won’t let you.” Stiles shook his head.

“What? Mietek, this isn’t you talking, it’s that beast controlling you. You’re not this stupid.” John frowned, his eyes shining with a mix of worry and fury.

Stiles scoffed.

“If you heard my conversation with Scott, then you know how I feel about him,” Stiles started, but the sheriff cut him off.

“That’s why I can’t let you go back to him, Mietek. He’s doing something to you when you’re together to make you feel this way, but it’s not real. I know it can’t be.”

Stiles took a deep breath, the swirling heat of his Spark begging to be let out behind his ribcage.

“I know you’re scared, dad. I was too. But Peter’s not a bad guy when you get to know him, why won’t you trust my judgement?” Stiles frowned, hurt that his dad was being so dismissive of his feelings and opinions.

“It’s not you I don’t trust, Mieczyslaw. It’s that _monster.”_

“He’s not a monster, dad.” Stiles scowl deepened.

“Why are you defending him?” John asked, indignant.

“Because no one else will.” Stiles thought back to his conversation with Peter, _your village would hunt and kill all the creatures in this forest and call it ‘self-preservation’._

“Because they don’t deserve it, Mieczyslaw!”

“Why do _we_ get to decide what they deserve? You didn’t even know there were Hellhounds in the forest, none of us did, because they’ve _never_ tried to hurt us. When was the last time something supernatural came out of that forest without us _leading_ it out first, huh?”

“That’s why we give the fae offerings, to protect us from whatever else lies in that damn forest and to keep them from turning on us. You know this, you learnt it at school.”

“How do I know I can trust what’s being taught at school when they’ve already gotten so much wrong?”

“What are you saying then, Meiczyslaw, that we just live with them, let _them_ hunt _us_ instead?”

“No! You’re not listening to me. Why does it always have to end in one hunting the other?” Stiles argued, frustrated.

“I knew I should’ve kept Claudia’s books away from you, some of the things she was saying at the end... You sound just like her, Mietek,” John said tiredly, rubbing a hand across his face. His shoulders had slumped as if they held the weight of the entire world.

“What, you think I’m crazy?” Stiles whispered hoarsely.

His dad froze, only just realising the implications of his words.

“Son…”

“No, of course not, Mietek,” Melissa cut in firmly, startling the two Stilinski men. During the heat of their argument, they had forgotten the McCalls had only gone into the next room and the walls weren’t particularly thick.

Stiles turned back to his dad, unable to look at Melissa and Scott’s matching looks of pity.

“You think I’m crazy because I don’t think we should kill these creatures just because we don’t understand them. Because I think _being different_ isn’t a death sentence,” Stiles said persistently.

“No, Mietek, that’s not what I was saying. You’re putting words in my mouth,” his dad insisted.

“Mom was _right,_ they were here first, dad. I remember the fairy tales, I read the books; we forced them into the forest, into hiding, and now we call them monsters because they tried to defend themselves? Half of them are like animals, they don’t understand complicated human concepts. We kill whatever comes too close because we know we’re not at the top of the food chain anymore and we don’t want to take any chances, but what gives us the right?” Stiles was equal parts anger and passion, wanting to get through to his family. He would have agreed with them a few weeks ago, but after seeing another side to the supernatural, to Peter, he didn’t think he could ever go back.

“What about wendigos, Stiles? Are they our friends? They’re certainly not ‘innocent animals’.”

“God, _fuck_ you!” Stiles shouted, his control over his Spark slipping enough for his family and the surrounding objects to be pushed back several feet. His eyes widened and he quickly looked everyone over, not stepping too close but making sure they weren’t badly injured.

“I’m- I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” he stammered, before running out of the house.

“Mietek, wait!” He heard his dad shout, but it only pushed him to move faster.

It wasn’t until he was at the edge of the forest that he stopped to catch his breath and felt the sharp pain in his side from running.

“Shit,” he whispered to himself dejectedly.

He collapsed in a heap onto the floor and debated whether he should call to Peter or just wait for his heart to slow before heading home and hopefully having a civil conversation with his dad. God, he _really_ hoped he could convince him not to do anything stupid, like attack Peter or try to break the deal.

Stiles didn’t want to think about how his dad had spoken about his mom or how he compared them.

“Maybe I am crazy.”

“Crazy in love, I’d hope.”

Stiles whipped his head around to see Peter stepping out between two thick tree trunks. He crouched in front of the Spark and rested his hand on top of Stiles’ where it was tightly clenched in his trousers.

“What’s got you thinking of me so loudly, huh?”

Stiles could feel tears spring to his eyes and threw himself into Peter’s arms, resting his face on Peter’s shoulder as he clung tightly.

“Hey, hey, shh, baby. It’s ok, you’re ok, come here.” Peter tightened his hold around Stiles, gently rocking him as he whispered soft platitudes. When Stiles was still upset after several minutes Peter decided to move them further into his territory, and hopefully away from whatever had Stiles so worked up. “I know you hate it when we teleport, but I think it’s the best option right now.”

Stiles shook his head minutely, but Peter had already snapped his finger. The same feeling of dizziness and nausea appeared again, but Peter ran his hand down the back of his head and it faded almost immediately.

“I can’t believe you could’ve done that the first time, but you let me throw up in the corner,” Stiles grumbled, nuzzling further into Peter’s embrace as he got them both standing. The fae froze slightly when Stiles’ breath fanned across his throat, but the Spark didn’t notice.

“I hadn’t teleported with a human in many, many years. I wasn’t lying when I told you I forgot how delicate you are.” Peter chuckled.

“’M not delicate,” Stiles protested lightly.

“Mhm,” Peter pretended to agree as he bent down to carry Stiles. “Are you going to tell me what’s gotten you so upset now?”

Stiles sniffed.

“My dad. We had a really big argument and it just hit me all of a sudden. Sorry I’m not gonna be any fun today.”

“That’s ok, sweet fox. I want to be there for you, I want you to trust me enough to come to me in times like this. I’m glad you’re here, even though I don’t like seeing you cry.”

“You’re _such_ a sap, I can’t believe people think you’re dangerous,” Stiles giggled.

“You thought I was dangerous,” Peter pointed out.

“Yeah, well, I was dumb.”

“I wouldn’t say you were dumb. Healthily cautious, maybe,” he joked.

“Now I know you wouldn’t hurt a fly,” Stiles said confidently, making Peter pause as he walked through the forest.

“Stiles. I _am_ dangerous. I’ve killed people, people from your village even, but I’d never hurt _you._ Everyone else should be wary of me, of the supernatural,” the fae said seriously, looking Stiles in the eye as he spoke.

“Peter…”

“Stiles, I need you to tell me you understand. I’m far from perfect, but you’ll always be safe with me. I can be the wrathful fae _and_ your loving husband,” the fae looked at his fiancé imploringly.

“I understand, Big Bad,” Stiles said finally. “Can we get something to eat? I kinda missed dinner when I ran out.”

“Of course.”

\--- 

Stiles slept against Peter’s chest once he’d finished his dinner, emotionally and physically exhausted after getting to the forest. Peter was hesitant to wake him, though he knew the boy would be mad if he let him sleep through the night and worry his family.

He lightly shook him, whispering his name until the Spark sleepily grumbled and lifted his head.

“Mmf, what time ‘s it?” He asked blearily, rubbing at his face.

“You’ve been asleep for about 25 minutes, I figured you’d want to get back home soon.”

“Do you think, maybe, I could stay here tonight? With you?” Stiles asked hesitantly. “Wait, do faes even sleep?”

“Yes, we do, but I don’t think it’s a good idea you stay here tonight.” Peter stood up, holding out a hand for Stiles.

“What? Why not?” Stiles said, frowning as he stood.

“Trust me, Stiles, I would give anything to have you for the night,” Peter said, his gaze dragging heavily across Stiles’ form. “But I know you’ll regret worrying your family the next day, and I don’t want the memory of our first night together to be spoilt by guilt like that. Go home, baby, I’ll be here when you want to stay another time.”

Stiles looked down at his shoes, knowing Peter was right, but still feeling too stubborn to face his dad so soon. He didn’t want to leave Peter yet either, he was enjoying his company and the comfort he offered.

“Fine, you’re right,” he sighed. “But maybe you…”

Peter tilted his head to encourage Stiles to finish his question.

“Will you stay with me tonight? At my house?”

The fae’s eyes widened before he tensed.

“Stiles… That’s not a good idea. Your father hates me already, I don’t think he’ll want me sleeping with his son, especially after you’ve had an argument.”

“He doesn’t have to know.” Stiles shrugged. “You can teleport into the house, right? I’ll tell him I don’t want to talk tonight and he’ll leave me alone for the rest of the night, so if you go straight to my room he won’t even notice.”

“What about Scott?” Stiles could tell Peter was close to agreeing.

“He won’t tell, not if I ask him not to.”

Peter scoffed. “And if he does?”

“He _won’t,”_ Stiles insisted.

Peter stared at him for a few intense moments, before caving in to Stiles and nodding.

“I’ll be gone as soon as the sun starts to rise though,” he promised.

“Sure thing, Big Bad.” Stiles grinned. 

\--- 

They stuck to the shadows on their walk home, not wanting any of the late wandering villagers to announce Peter’s return.

“Twist your ring once you’ve spoken to Scott,” the fae said as they drew closer to Stiles’ home, disappearing into thin air immediately after.

Stiles grumbled as he pushed through his front door, quieting when he saw the anxious faces of his family.

“Mietek! Where have you been? We were so worried about you,” Melissa said, rushing to his side and cupping his face, checking him for any noticeable injuries. 

Stiles glanced quickly to his father’s face as he answered.

“I’m ok. I was with Peter.”

Stiles heard John’s sharp intake of breath and decided to cut the conversation short and retreat to his room as soon as possible.

“I am tired though, so I’m just going to go to bed, if that’s ok.”

“Mietek-.”

“Dad, can we- Can it wait until morning? I don’t want to argue again tonight.”

“He’s right, John. It’s been a long night for all of us,” Stiles heard Melissa say quietly to her husband.

He turned to Scott and gestured with his head towards their shared bedroom, hoping Scott would follow him without question.

He closed the door behind them and turned to a confused Scott.

“What’s up, Mietek? Is everything ok?”

“Yeah, I just wanted to warn you that Peter’s staying over tonight. Didn’t want you freaking out when he appears,” Stiles whispered to avoid his dad overhearing a second time, and too busy looking out of the window for the fae to notice Scott’s look of shock. “Obviously, only if that’s ok with you, though.”

“You’re not serious… Your dad’s _never_ going to agree, Mietek.”

“Scottie, bro, best bud, pal o’ mine, that’s why we’re not going to tell him,” Stiles said cheerfully.

“Mietek…” Scott said warningly.

“Scott, _please._ I know I ask you for a lot, but I really need you to stick with me on this. I- I need him right now,” Stiles said, his eyes pleading with Scott.

“And you say I have guilt-trip-puppy eyes,” Scott pretended to moan. “Ugh, fine, of course, whatever makes you happy bro. But, you _owe_ me.”

“Yes, thank you, thank you, you won’t even know he’s here!” Stiles leapt forward to hug Scott, still keeping his voice low, despite being excited.

“Yeah, somehow, I doubt that,” Scott said wryly, making Stiles chuckle.

He stepped back and double checked his dad or Melissa weren’t outside the door before fiddling with his engagement ring.

He felt the heat of Peter’s body behind him a second before he heard Scott’s surprised gasp.

“You called?”

Stiles grinned.

“You’re so dramatic, Scott already knows you’re a big softie, you don’t need to put on a show.” Stiles turned in Peter’s arms, wrapping his own around the fae’s waist and directing them towards his bed. They both ignored Scott’s incredulous whisper of _“‘Softie?’”_

“Eager, little fox?”

“Shut up,” Stiles laughed into his shoulder. He didn’t miss the shocked choking sound Scott had made and he found it was good pay back for all the times he had walked in on Scott and Allison. “It’s bed time, I’m tired, we’re going to bed.”

Stiles lightly pushed the fae down to sit on his bed and nudged him until he moved across to make room for Stiles to settle down too. Stiles briefly looked over his shoulder to see Scott in his own bed. He sent him a discreet thumbs-up before turning his back to his brother and the fae. Stiles smiled and turned back over, shuffling on the spot in his small twin bed so he didn’t roll on top of Peter.

“Thanks for staying tonight, Peter,” he whispered.

“What happened to never thanking a fae?” Peter smirked, running his hand lightly across Stiles’ back. “Don’t you know we use that as a way to gain favours? How many favours would you owe me by now, hm?”

Stiles laughed quietly, Peter’s gentle movements slowly relaxing him.

“Already gave you m’ hand, P’ter. What more d’you wan’?” Stiles mumbled sleepily against the pillow.

 _Your heart,_ Peter thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bed sharing? In my fic? More likely than you think
> 
> Lemme know if you think anyone was ooc or reacting too extreme or too soft in this chap, idk if i wrote the argument well or not. It's one of the first things I wrote for this fic, like around chap 3, but I decided to move it to later on bc it made more sense.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Claudia, she wasn’t from here.”
> 
> “She was Polish, I know.”
> 
> “No, Mietek, she wasn’t from _here,”_ John emphasised, knowing Stiles realised when his eyes went wide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> posting on time? I don't know her
> 
> but fr I've got a full-time job now so I have like no time to write, and I had a block anyway from the last chapter bc I'd written myself into a corner with the argument, but I hope this is ok!!! 
> 
> comments and kudos inspire me and remind me to keep going and that people are actually still reading this mess

Stiles woke up the next morning alone in his bed, the warmth of the fae rapidly fading from his sheets in the cold winter air. He sighed wishing Peter had stayed just a bit longer or had woken him up, so he could’ve said goodbye. 

Little did he know the fae had paused before leaving that morning; watching his fiancé’s sleep rumpled face and noting the usual tension Stiles held in his shoulders was gone. He had hesitated momentarily before dipping low to kiss Stiles lightly on the forehead, whispering a soft goodbye against his hair. 

Stiles got up reluctantly, knowing his dad would want to have some sort of conversation about yesterday before he had to go to work in the afternoon. Being honest, Stiles wanted to talk too, he didn’t want to let their argument fester, and the memories of what they said last night left Stiles’ stomach turning, but he just didn’t know whether his dad was going to be able to look past all the bullshit the village had been telling itself for however long. And it was bullshit that John had to enforce as the village’s sheriff, so Stiles knew he wouldn’t be easily swayed to trust the creatures in the forest. And since John was 100% human, Stiles couldn’t even take him across to the other world and show him all the wonders that the forest had to offer. 

“Morning, Mietek,” John said uncertainly when Stiles walked into the kitchen. “Coffee?” 

Stiles hesitated momentarily, looking at the mug his dad held out to him, before nodding and reaching forward. 

“Thanks, dad.” He smiled, a weight lifting from his shoulders when his dad gave a small smile back. 

They’d be ok, Stiles just needed to explain everything; help John see his side of things, and not rush off again. 

They’d stayed sat at the table after Scott and Melissa had headed off to work a little later. Stiles tried not to think of what the look Melissa gave his father could mean and held onto the feeling of Scott’s warm hand squeezing his shoulder as he passed by. 

“I shouldn’t have just left like that last night,” Stiles apologised at the same time his father spoke. 

“I was wrong to compare you to your mother in such a negative way.” John sighed and looked at his son with remorse in his eyes. “Can I apologise first? I need to get this off my chest.” 

Stiles nodded silently, the memory of his mother causing a lump to form in his suddenly dry throat. 

“You do remind me of your mother, Mietek, _so much.”_

Stiles dropped his eyes to the ground, not wanting to see the disappointment and hate on his dad’s face. 

“You’re so bright and caring, just like she was. And loyal to a fault,” John said fondly, becoming choked up himself at the memory of his late wife. “God, you’re the spitting image of her, son. Even if you didn’t have the same insatiable, fearless curiosity, I would still see her in you every day.” 

Stiles wiped messily at his face, giving his dad the chance the wipe away his own tears. 

“She’d be so proud of you, Mietek. Of what you’ve done for the village and for how far you’ve come with your Spark. I’m ashamed that I tried to use her against you, that I spoilt her memory by only thinking of how she was towards the end, when she was so much more-.” John broke off, letting out a short sob, deeply regretting his actions from the night before. 

_“Dad.”_ Stiles stood from his seat to in order to reach out and wrap his arms around his dad’s shoulders. He clenched his own eyes closed tightly to stop any tears falling. “I’m sorry for running away without telling you where I was or when I’d be back. It was childish, and I worried you all needlessly, I wasn’t thinking.”

“Neither of us were,” John said as he stood up to get a tighter hold on his son as they clung to each other. 

“I… I don’t regret what I said about Peter and the forest though,” Stiles whispered, not wanting to ruin the emotional moment they were having. “I get why you don’t trust him, and I’m not asking you to, but trust _me_ and my judgment, ok? That’s all I want.”

He heard his dad sigh resignedly, but his shoulders fell with relief when he felt him nod. He clung to John even tighter when he answered, “From now on, always, Mietek.” 

“We can’t change what’s happened, but we don’t have to make it even harder, either.” Stiles pulled back from the hug and used his sleeve to dry his face as best he could, while John did the same. 

“I don’t trust him as far as I can throw him, but you’re right. If he was going to hurt you or the village, he would’ve done it by now. And as little as I know about fae, your mother did always make sure I knew they didn’t have as much power over you as you might think if they didn’t have your name.”

“So, you agree the whole mind control thing is bullshit? Wow, Melissa really must’ve tore you a new one after I left yesterday,” Stiles joked. 

“Yeah, yeah, she can be a very scary woman when she wants to be, she helped knock some sense into my head. I was being stupid. But you have to let me be a protective parent every once in a while, it’s my job.” 

Stiles just rolled his eyes, before frowning. 

“How did mom know so much about fae and the magic?” 

Stiles saw his dad hesitate before sitting back down and gesturing for Stiles to do the same. 

“Claudia, she wasn’t from here.”

“She was Polish, I know.”

“No, Mietek, she wasn’t from _here,”_ John emphasised, knowing Stiles realised when his eyes went wide. 

“W-what?” 

“We met when the village was still fighting off stray magical creatures, before we gave offerings to the fae to protect us; her idea by the way. A group of us were chosen to go into the forest to see if we could track whatever had been attacking the village recently. We were told not to go too far in, but one of us was dragged off into the shadows, and I decided to go after him like the young, dumb kid I was.”

“Now I know where I get my recklessness from.” 

John huffed. 

“I got lost almost immediately, I was too far into the forest to be able to know which way was out by looking for the light of the village. But as I looked around for something familiar, for any sign of my friend, Claudia appeared. She came out of nowhere, dressed in a- a pristine, white dress, and asked me if I was lost, if I needed help.”

“What did you do?” 

“I asked her if she’d seen my friend, to which she looked at me sadly and shook her head. She offered to walk me back to the edge of the forest, but I declined, lied and said I knew the way. I was terrified, and I didn’t know if I could trust her, so I started walking away. And every time I heard a twig snap, or a bush rustle I’d freak out and turn the other way, but eventually I got out. It wasn’t until I got home that I realised she was the one scaring me to direct me in the right direction.” John smiled. “I went back a week later after I couldn’t sleep without dreaming of her and met her at the edge of the forest. She said she was going to move into my village as a human, so she could see me and spend time with me.” 

“But you’d only met once before, and she was willing to risk living in the village?” 

“She said she knew there was no one else for her but me, that she wanted to see what her life here could be like if I was willing to try. As soon as she moved in we started dating, and it didn’t take us long to get married after that, and then to have you. She used to say we were meant to be, that it was written in the stars, you just had to know where to look.” 

John’s eyes glazed over momentarily. 

“What- what _was_ she?” 

“She was a Wila, a spirit, I think.” 

“I’ll ask Peter about them.” John nodded at Stiles’ words. 

“You have to understand that I’m worried about you marrying Peter, not only because I’ve been taught from the beginning that you can’t trust fae, but also because magical creatures can’t last in our world for as long as they can I their own.”

“What?” Stiles asked, alarmed. 

“Your mother, she died because she stayed in the human world, outright refused to go back once you were born. She couldn’t leave your side for more than a day. But, she couldn’t connect to her magic here; I don’t think any of them can. As she got more ill, she got more desperate, wanted to take you back to her home instead, so you could live happily ever after, even if that meant going without me. I didn’t want you going with Peter in case you left forever, or in case it triggered something in you that would make you ill like Claudia if you spent too long on the human world again. I panicked.” 

“Oh my god…” 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, but with how this village reacts to anything supernatural, I figured it was easier to not risk exposure and keep it myself. And I didn’t want you to think of your mother as selfish, because she wasn’t, she just wasn’t in the right state of mind by that point.”

“It’s ok, dad, I forgive you,” Stiles said, stepping forward to hug John again. “I’m glad I know though, it explains so much.” 

“Yeah. Maybe Peter will be able to tell you more about her kind. She was pretty tight lipped about it after she moved into the village.” 

“I’ll go see him when you go to work.” 

“After your chores.”

“Ugh, _yes,_ after my chores.” Stiles rolled his eyes playfully, making his dad chuckle. 

“So… You really trust him, huh?” John asked curiously. 

_“Dad…”_ Stiles said warningly. Raising his eyebrows at his dad when he lifted his arms in defence. 

“Hey, I’m just trying to figure out your relationship with him, how you feel about him,” John admitted. 

“Well, I _like-_ him, a bit. A _lot._ Yeah,” Stiles said haltingly, embarrassed, but also happy that he could finally gush about Peter to his dad without having to prepare himself for the worst. 

“Yeah? Is that what the kids are calling it these days, ‘a bit, a lot’?” John asked teasingly. 

“Shut up,” Stiles laughed. “I’m glad I can talk to you about it now though. Before, I felt… Guilty? And I was constantly tense in case I gave it away.” He shrugged. 

“I’m sorry I made you feel that way, Mietek. I really fucked up, huh?” 

“Not your fault. It’s not as if I was open about how I was feeling as I spent more time with him, it kind of hit me suddenly too. And you haven’t seen what I’ve seen, I think if you could, you’d be more inclined to agree with me.” 

“I’ll still do better from now on though and keep me in the loop with all this lovey-dovey stuff too. Don’t just suddenly throw it on me that you’re adopting a kid together or something.” 

Stiles sputtered in shock, his cheeks going bright red. 

“We haven’t even kissed!” 

“Good, you’re not even married yet,” John said over Stiles’ embarrassed rambling, trying to hide a smile and hold in a laugh. 

“Dad!” 

“I gotta go to work, Mietek, I’ll see you when you get back from Peter’s, ok? No later than 6 tonight,” John laughed as he got ready to head out into the snow. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever daddio, I’ll see you later. Stay safe.”

“I’m not the one heading into the forest.”

 

\--- 

 

Stiles was sat between Peter’s legs, resting against his chest when he decided to bring up his mother to him. He turned his head over his shoulder to see Peter with his eyes closed and his head resting against the rough bark of the tree they were sat under; its dense branches guarded them from the brisk wind and snow that managed to break through the forest. 

“Peter?” Stiles whispered. 

“Mh,” Peter mumbled, keeping his eyes closed for the moment. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

Peter slowly looked at his fiancé, a small smile curving the corners of his lips. 

“Of course, baby. What is it?” 

“What do you know about Wilas?” Stiles asked, fiddling with his hands to keep his nerves at bay; he desperately didn’t want to find out his mother was some sort of killer before she met his father. 

“Not much, I haven’t run into many in my life time.” Stiles’ shoulders drooped in disappointment. “They’re like fae, but not exactly. Less vengeful.” 

“Dad said they’re like spirits, kind of trapped between being human and being magic.” 

“That’s not a bad description,” Peter conceded, nodding. “Why are you asking, anyway?” 

“Me and my dad talked, and he told me that my mom was a Wila, but she chose him over living in the forest.” 

“I had my suspicions your mother was magical, but a Wila wouldn’t have been my first guess. From what you’ve told me about her paired with the notes in her books, there was no way she was human, even with connections. They were too detailed and personal for someone who hadn’t lived in the forest.” 

Stiles shuffled to face Peter better, while still staying situated in his lap. 

“And you said Wila were less vengeful?” Stiles prompted, wanting to hear more about his mother and her kind. 

Peter nodded, wrapping his arms tighter around Stiles waist. 

“They’ve got a soft spot for humans. They’ll play tricks on them like fae, but they’re light-hearted, not as malicious as fae tend to be. They can usually be found roaming the woods giving warnings to oblivious or unsuspecting men, hence why I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting that many, since I’m the thing they’re saving humans from. It’s probably for the best too, Wilas can have short tempers, and their control over the elements can make them dangerous to have to fight.”

“They can control the _elements?”_ Stiles asked excitedly.

“Primarily the winds, but sometimes, especially powerful Wilas could control other elements too. Though I’ve never heard of Wila that could control all four.” 

“Do- do you think that’s why, when my mom died, there was that earthquake?” Stiles asked. “I always figured it was me, but I didn’t even consider it being my mom’s power as well.”

“It was probably a transference of her power over to you and it was too much for your body to hold in so suddenly.”

Stiles just nodded sadly and leant further into Peter’ shoulder, his face resting against his neck. 

“Dad said she died because she never went back to the forest, her magic was leaving her, and she couldn’t connect back to her roots. So, she slowly rotted away instead, just to stay with me.”

“That’s not your fault, Stiles. You know that, right?” 

“I know, still makes me sad. And mad,” Stiles whispered. 

“Mad?” 

“I don’t know, it just feels selfish of her that she couldn’t have left for a few days so that in the long run we could’ve had so many more years together. But I guess she just loved me that much, she couldn’t bear to leave me.” 

Peter kissed his temple lightly. 

“That’s what makes Sparks so powerful, Stiles. You have your own supply of magic energy, you don’t need to connect to the land’s roots to be able to use your gift like we do. I can only use my powers for so long on your plane, and even then, they’re limited in comparison to what I can do here.” 

“You- you won’t die if you stay in the village for too long, right?” Stiles’ voice was small and insecure. 

“No, I’d make sure to come back when I needed.” 

“And I won’t have to leave my family behind once we’re married, right? I’ll still be able to see them whenever I want?” 

“Whenever you want, little fox. We can start looking into world bridging runes if you’d like, that way if you keep one at my Ring and one at your father’s house, you’ll be able to use your own magic to travel back and forth between them.”

“Really?” Stiles grinned shyly. “I could learn how to do that myself? And I won’t even feel queasy like when I travel with you?” 

“Maybe the first few times, but you’ll get used to it.” Peter smiled. 

The fae was suddenly hit by how handsome and sweet Stiles looked in front of him then and leant in to kiss him, but the boy’s wide and almost panicked eyes stopped him at the last second, and instead he rubbed their noses together softly. “You should get back to your father before your curfew.” 

Stiles didn’t pull away as he spoke, enjoying their closeness and the warmth of Peter’s breath on his lips. 

Why did he have to freeze when Peter leant in, Stiles could’ve sworn he was going to kiss him, but this was nice too. Preferable really. He wasn’t sure he was ready to kiss Peter yet, he’d only really come to terms with his feelings and his father had only just kind of approved of them being together. Stiles could wait a few more days, and although he didn’t know it, Peter was willing to wait an eternity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so I googled Polish mythical creatures & found Wila and they sounded cool af and kinda suited where I was going with my story. I did change some of it to fit tho, but idk if the info I had was wrong already 
> 
> also I wanted stiles to be a bit mad at his mom bc he hasn't had a kid himself, so he maybe won't undertand what its like to have to leave them when they're still young, and also he doesn't know if Wila have powerful bonds with their kids or not. and tbh I just wanted to write him as something other than sad 
> 
> check out my tumblr and remind me to keep writing or prompt me @stellewrites


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Stay away from me, Peter,” Stiles said, his voice coming out shaky. “I mean it. Don’t come any closer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so theres mention of a threat of rape/non con about mid way through this chapter. nothing happens and its only about two lines total, but feel free to skip over it if it makes you uncomfortable. I've updated the tags for it and it NOT between peter/stiles
> 
> I really struggled with writing this chapter - again lmao - I just couldn't think of how I wanted to get from A - B, but I knew the story couldn't continue how I planned if I didn't get it there. I wrote so many different versions that all just felt wrong or didn't make sense, until I finally landed on this version (a month later omg), so I hope you all like it! 
> 
> I think we all know the schedule for this fic has turned into once every month give or take a week but I'm gonna try and update as soon as I can every time, and always sunday/monday 
> 
> leave comments or kudos if you want! I always appreciate them :) 
> 
> tumblr - stellewrites

“I haven’t seen you in this part of the forest for quite some time, Peter,” Lydia said casually, though her steps were cautious as she watched Peter carefully study the two large stones he had in his hands. Her furry companion was less hesitant to disturb Peter than she was though and bounded over the rocky terrain to sniff at the fae. Lydia stepped forward and crouched on the small patch of grass Peter had settled into, surrounded by stones similar to the ones he held. “Stiles is- He isn’t _hurt,_ is he?”

That got Peter’s attention. 

“What? No, no, he’s fine.” Peter frowned at the banshee, his confusion turning to realisation when she sent a frown to his hands. “I’m not using them as graves for my Ring this time, but I needed something strong enough to hold the same magical properties. He’s going to build a bridge from my Ring to his house, so he can travel between whenever he wants.” 

He absently put a stone down to pet and fuss over Big Bad Jr. 

He smiled as he remembered how Lydia had been less than enthusiastic when Peter first showed up with the sad looking dog, but she soon grew on the banshee when they found out the kid hearted dog helped her calm down after she screams out the death of someone within her range. 

“He’s strong enough to only need one stone?” Lydia asked, bringing him backs from his thoughts. Her tone implied doubt, but Peter could see she was impressed. 

He nodded, smirking proudly. 

“He’s already gotten the technique down, he just needs something to hone in on, otherwise he’d end up anywhere. I’ve been directing his power to help us land where we need to be, but once he has the stones, he won’t need my help at all. He’s the strongest Spark I’ve ever even heard of, he just isn’t disciplined.”

“And you’re the one who’s going to _discipline_ him?” Lydia raised her eyebrows at him, making Peter’s ears turn a soft pink. 

“I’m going to help him realise his potential.” 

It was Lydia’s turn to smirk. 

“Then I guess we should leave you to pick the perfect stones for him.”

“You should.”

“But we _won’t._ Teasing you is just too fun.” Lydia grinned. 

 

\--- 

 

Peter made his way into the village later that day to find Stiles and give him the stones. 

“Peter?” Stiles smiled, touched that the fae had come to surprise him. 

“Little fox. I’ve got you something.”

“A gift?” The Spark said excitedly. “Where is it? What is it? Can I have it now?” 

Peter laughed at his fiancé’s excitement. 

“It might be better if I gave you it without an audience,” Peter suggested, reminding Stiles that they were in the middle of the village and his neighbours weren’t the most open to anything magical, especially where Peter was concerned. 

“Sure, just zap us to where ever you think is best,” Stiles shrugged. He had become a lot less concerned about Peter teleporting them ever since he found out his queasiness could be taken away almost immediately, plus he wanted to get used to it a little if he was going to be practicing doing it himself. 

Once they were at the edge of the village, Peter put his empty hands behind his back and brought them back to his front holding the stones. 

“Aren’t these the stones from your Ring?” Stiles asked, frowning a little. 

“They’re from the same place originally, but they aren’t taken from my Ring. These are what you’re going to use to carve your bridge runes into. I figured this would be easier in case your family ever move to a new house, your bridge won’t be tied to the structure, it can move with them.” 

Stiles grinned widely, holding the heavy stones in his broad palms close to his chest. 

“Thanks, Big Bad. This… Means a lot to me.” 

“If you keep one in your room at home and I’ll put the other in my Ring, they should soak up the energy after a week or so and we can swap them over and you’ll be ready to jump from place to place.” 

Stiles handed back one of the stones to Peter, putting his empty hand into his coat pocket. 

Just as Peter was about to ask Stiles if he wanted to maybe see Big Bad again – and by default, meet Lydia – Stiles suddenly pulled his hand from his pocket and spun around to face the direction of the village. 

“Shit! I was meant to meet my dad to give him his gloves; I swear a day doesn’t go by that he doesn’t forget them. Could you take us back?” 

Peter nodded, pouting a little and glaring at the gloves held in Stiles’ hand as he snapped them back to Stiles’ village. 

“I’ll just be five minutes; will you be ok waiting here for me?” Stiles said walking backwards away from Peter and the cobblers he had left him stood next to. 

Peter playfully rolled his eyes. 

“I’ve survived this long without you Stiles, I’m sure I’ll be perfectly fine on my own for a little bit longer.” Although Peter’s tone was joking, he felt a pang in his chest at the idea of living without Stiles. 

“Such a drama queen, could’ve just said ‘yes’…” Stiles muttered fondly as he started to jog away from Peter and towards where the fae assumed the sheriff was waiting with cold hands. 

While Stiles was gone, Peter decided to wander around the nearby shops a little, curious to see how the village was doing since his last visit. He made sure to stick to the shadows and alleys so he wouldn’t be spotted and cause a scene amongst the villagers. 

He wanted to know what the life Stiles lived was like there, what the hustle and bustle of the small but busy market is like in comparison to the rustle of leaves and the pounding of feet that could be found in his forest. 

He stopped just before he was about to turn a corner to head towards the village centre when he heard a group of low, irritated voices. Peter smirked, humans could get so worked up and angry over the smallest of things, he would love to have them go through even half of the pain he has and then hear them complain about their ‘problems’. 

He leant against the wall, listening to the group get louder and more worked up as they all complained about… Someone? Peter couldn’t fully hear them yet, but he couldn’t wait to find out the full story from Stiles, even if the boy did accuse him of being a gossip. 

“… Just have to cause a distraction on the other side of town, then the sheriff and his family will be too busy to even notice he’s gone.” Peter heard one of the men suggest. The fae frowned, not liking where this seemed to be going. 

“If we take him during the night, we’ll be less likely to be seen too, and the wolves will be quicker to attack.” 

“Monsters, too.” 

He heard them all mumble an affirmative, before the first voice spoke up again, seemingly gaining confidence from the others and no longer keeping his voice low. 

“You can light a fire at the farmhouse furthest from the river while we take care of Mietek. Even with the whole village helping put out the fire, John will be too late.”

Peter grew angry at their words. He didn’t know who this Mietek was, but he knew Stiles and the sheriff would be enraged to find out their own people were planning on murdering him. He’ll have to capture them somehow if Stiles or his dad doesn’t show up soon; the village was small enough that Stiles should be able to find him easily enough. 

Peter looked around at the other villagers that walked by the loud group without even turning their heads; was Mietek disliked by all the villagers? He couldn’t understand how they could feel so comfortable talking about this out in the open otherwise. His attention was brought back to the group when he heard them laugh. 

“Hell, maybe we could have a little _fun_ with him before we throw him to the forest,” one of the men said darkly. 

“Wouldn’t be surprised if he spreads his legs without a fight after being with that fae for so long, it’s probably beaten him to submission,” another laughed. 

Peter breath caught in his throat, his limbs growing suddenly stiff, when he saw red. 

He pushed off the wall and rounded the corner too quick for them to notice him at first. 

“Speaking of, what should we do about the fae? Won’t it notice the kid is gone?” 

“We’ll just lie and say he went wandering into the forest at night to see him. He’s done it bef-.”

The man cut himself off when he saw his companions’ wide eyes and pale faces. His own fear mixing in the air with the others’ when he turned to come face to face Peter.

Peter bared his teeth at the men stood before him, his eyes glowing vibrantly and flashing dangerously. A low growl rumbling deep from his chest finally gained the attention of the villagers nearby.

“You dare even _think_ about touching him?” Peter’s jaw was clenched so tight his words came out slurred and animal-like. 

“Oh, fuck,” the smallest of the three men cursed, obviously terrified. He scrambled to turn and run away from his two friends and Peter, but he only managed to take 3 steps before Peter snapped his fingers and the man was suddenly splattered over the ground and nearby wall and villagers.

The bystanders screamed at the gruesome scene, but Peter wasn’t finished. He quickly took hold of the man that he assumed was the soon to be arsonist and squeezed his hand tightly around his bicep, watching as he slowly set on fire; the flame a bright, hot blue. The man wailed at the pain, but the magic fire didn’t spread nor go out no matter what he ran and bumped into. 

More villagers had arrived after hearing the screaming, including Stiles and his dad, but Peter hadn’t taken any notice. In front of him was the man that was going to rape and kill the other half of his soul. He wouldn’t get away with it. 

Peter wrapped his hand around the man’s neck while he was distracted by the sight of his companion burning behind them and cut off his air flow. This death wouldn’t be as quick as the others, Peter was a firm believer that evil deserved to suffer. 

He didn’t know how long he had stood there holding the choking man before he registered the broad hands clawing at his and the frantic voice calling his name, begging him to _stop, just stop._

He looked from Stiles’ hands to his face, noticing how wide and desperate his eyes looked, his expression panicked, and decided he didn’t like it when Stiles looked like this. He quickly snapped the neck he held in his hand and turned to face a shocked and distraught Stiles. 

“Oh god, oh my god. What have you done? What did you do, Peter?” Stiles whispered, his voice barely noticeable over the shouts and scream of the villagers surrounding them. Peter looked up and finally noticed the group of hunters that had circled him, their weapons pointed directly at him and Stiles. Peter bared his teeth at the thought, causing the hunters to tense and the Sheriff to take an aborted step closer towards his son.

Peter looked around the villagers impassively before he turned to Stiles as he slowly and shakily backed away from the fae. Peter frowned, his instinct telling him that Stiles was safest with him, not the hunters. Peter was pretty sure he recognised one of the men he had killed as a hunter, so no one else could be trusted to keep Stiles safe. He needed to get him back to the forest where Peter was strongest. 

His eyes flickered to the Sheriff and his hunters and back to the Spark. He kept eye contact with Stiles as he raised his hand. The Spark’s watery eyes widened in realisation and he shook his head, silently pleading as he turned and reached to grab onto his father’s sleeve, but Peter just snapped his fingers and took them to the edge of the forest before he could get a solid grip. 

“Are you ok, Stiles?” Peter stepped forward, his hand held out to hold Stiles’ face in his hands. 

“Stay away from me, Peter,” Stiles said, his voice coming out shaky. _“I mean it._ Don’t come any closer.” 

The fae froze.

“Stiles...?” Peter frowned, a ball of unease growing in his stomach. 

“What did you _do?”_ Stiles whispered to himself. _“Fuck._ I can’t believe I stood up for you. I promised them they were safe, said that you would never hurt any of us, and look what you _did.”_

Peter was stunned silent, he could see Stiles’ shoulders shaking with what he thought was fear, but Stiles’ tone was telling him was fury. 

“I don’t know if I’m angrier at myself for believing in you, or at you for proving me wrong and murdering th-. _No,_ nope. Definitely a hell of a lot madder at you.”

“Stiles, let me explain,” Peter tried. 

“No! You don’t get to talk right now, Peter. God, you really are a fae through and through; talking your way out of everything, getting things to go exactly how you want. I was so fucking naïve to think this could work. To think of you as more than a murderer.”

“I never lied to you about my nature, Stiles. I’ve made it perfectly clear that my moral code isn’t exactly leaning towards the forgiving side.”

“I know that! But they hadn’t done anything, Peter! You’ve never killed unprovoked before. At least, not around me,” Stiles said, becoming frantic. 

“Unprovoked? They were planning on killing you, Stiles! Or should I say _‘Mietek’._ Jesus, it was _far_ from unprovoked,” Peter says tiredly. 

Stiles froze at the fae’s admittance and the use of his real name. Peter must’ve at least heard them say _something_ about him if he knew his real first name now. 

“Maybe- Maybe so. But they hadn’t done it yet, and we don’t even know if anyone else heard them. It’s your word against three dead men now, and my village won’t be inclined to believe the word of a fae.” Peter tried not to tense at the way Stiles said ‘fae’, but he knew he wasn’t totally successful. 

“I don’t care if the _village_ believe me.” 

“Well, I do, Peter! I fucking live there! And we have rules; one of them being _don’t kill_ each other. We-”

“This is the last time I’m repeating this, Stiles. They were _threatening to hurt you.”_

“Then we arrest them! Give them a fair trial, we can’t just kill everyone that says they’re gonna do something. Half of the time it’s just empty words, Peter.” 

“This wasn’t. I could tell.”

“Oh, great. You ‘could tell’, my dad will love that explanation.” Stiles folded his arms across his chest tightly. 

“I would have thought he’d be thankful I stopped three men from trying to attack his child.” Peter said through gritted teeth, growing angry at Stiles’ inability to see his side. 

“But you didn’t _just_ stop them. You killed them, Peter, violently and in front of half the village.”

The fae’s lip curled up in distaste at the reminder of how messy he had been when he had lost control of his instincts, his sharp canines catching in the light.

“I thought we had talked about this,” Peter almost seemed to be pleading with the Spark. “You had agreed that I could be a fae _and_ your husband; that they weren’t mutually exclusive.”

Stiles broke eye contact with Peter, the fae huffed. 

“Why did you even agree to marry me in the first place if you couldn’t accept all of me?” 

Stiles’ jaw drops in disbelief before he answers, his eyes wide with incredulity. “It wasn’t exactly a _choice,_ Peter. I was bargaining for the health of my village, my _family.”_ He scoffed. 

_“Excuse_ me?” Peter looked furious, his eyes narrowed and his lip one twitch away from being a snarl. 

“I’m not saying you forced me into it necessarily; I knew I’d have to give up _something,_ but to be fair, at the time I thought I was agreeing to you _literally_ taking my left hand. Like I was mentally preparing to learn to work in the village with only one hand. And then it suddenly turns out that we’re married? Come on, Peter, I didn’t exactly choose to be here.” 

Peter was speechless. 

“You thought I meant it…” Peter laughed shortly in disbelief. “I wasn’t the one to offer their father’s old wedding ring as a _gift,_ Stiles. With all the preparation you put into keeping yourself safe, keeping your wording _just precise enough,_ you had to have known what that ring meant. And th- And the _tree,_ you were the one to take us there to put our initials in the bark. _You_ included us in your own village’s mating tradition.” 

Peter’s voice grew more desperate as he spoke, like he was trying to convince himself just as much as Stiles. 

“I gave you the ring because it was gold! And it held sentimental value! I’d read that fae loved to bargain with items like that. And the tree was a-a test for myself, not that we even got to do it in the end. I was seeing if I could really go through with it, the engagement didn’t feel real back then and I needed something solid to show me there was no way out.”

 _“‘No way out’?”_ Peter clenched his eyes shut. “Jesus _fucking_ Christ, Stiles... The ring on your finger wasn’t ‘solid’ enough? Did you also read that by giving a ring to a fae, you’re offering yourself to them? _Blood and soul._ Depending on the fae, it can bring worse consequences than giving them your name.” 

Stiles went pale. “No… I-I didn’t read that.” 

Peter just shook his head sadly, avoiding meeting Stiles’ eyes. “God, this really was just a forced marriage to you. A _sacrifice_ for your fucking village. You didn’t want this, you _told me_ that didn’t want to be married to me on several occasions, but I didn’t listen. I thought you were just trying to hurt me, or-or you were testing our bond – _shit._ You were just trying to survive in a world you didn’t know was yours.” Peter laughed hollowly. “You’re free to leave, Stiles. You always have been. This was never meant to be a prison.”

“No, Peter…” 

_“Go,_ Stiles. Neither of us want you here anymore.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so,,,,, did y'all think that was unrealistic? did they act ooc considering how close they've gotten and the stuff they've been through? who do you think is in the wrong and who should apologise first?  
> I really struggled with how I could get them to argue (and break up?) and have Stiles be surprised at Peters actions, but also making it seem reasonable from a fae's perspective. Everything I wrote seemed petty or too extreme 
> 
> I'm mad at myself bc they Haven't Even Kissed yet and I've gone and sprinkled a bit of angst into the mix. 
> 
> I might do some of this chapter from Stiles' perspective as well, so maybe comment if you wanna see that or if you think I should just skip on to the next part instead 
> 
>  
> 
> y'all should listen to love yourself: answer bc its an amazing album btw


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Sheriff had just turned back to Argent when he heard the screams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little look at Stiles' version of things and a bit after

“Dad!” Stiles shouted, interrupting the conversation the sheriff was having with Chris Argent, one of the village’s lead hunters. He came to a skidding stop just in front of his father, almost knocking them both off their feet, before he waved John’s gloves in front of his face. “Got your gloves, just like you asked.” 

“Yeah, half an hour later.” John shook his head fondly, smirking at Argent’s huff of laughter. “What did you get distracted by this time, Mietek?” 

“Nothing much, but Peter’s here, so I’ve gotta get back to him.” Stiles glanced at Chris before lowering his voice. “He’s gonna show me how to draw the bridge runes today.” 

Stiles’ excitement was clear in his voice and the way he bounced from one foot to the other, unable to keep still. 

“You better go find him then,” John said smiling fondly. “Oh wait, Mietek. Before you go, tell Peter I want to meet him properly since you’re really going to be married by the end of the season. Need to give him the shovel talk, fae or not. “ 

“Ugh, dad, really?” Stiles groaned embarrassedly, glaring half-heartedly at his father and Chris’ matching smirks. 

John nodded, a teasing smile lighting up his eyes. 

“Fine, fine, I’ll tell him,” Stiles agreed, waving his hand dismissively as he turned to walk back towards where he’d left Peter waiting. 

“Melissa will want to know if he’ll want anything specific cooking!” John shouted to his son, grinning when he saw his son’s shoulder hunch in embarrassment; though he missed Stiles’ smile. The Spark appreciated the effort his dad was putting in to prove to Stiles that he trusted his judgement and would accept Peter as his husband. 

The Sheriff had just turned back to Argent when he heard the screams. His head whipped towards Stiles who had frozen still at the horrifying sounds coming from the distance, before racing to its source. 

_“Mietek!”_

The sheriff sprinted after his son, Chris close behind, both worried as to what could have gotten into the village to cause such a stir, but nothing could’ve prepared them for the scene they came upon. 

It was worse than what it had been like when John was growing up, before they had the protection of the fae and monsters would attack the village in search of food. 

John quickly found Stiles roughly pushing his way to the front of the crowd calling Peter’s name desperately, shouting for him to stop. But his pleas fell on deaf ears, and the fae did what the village had always feared he would. 

John directed Argent and some other near-by hunters to surround the fae and block the villagers from getting closer. They didn’t need any more casualties. 

But when he realised Stiles was going to keep pushing forward to get Peter’s attention John leapt forward to pull him back, only to be held back by taking a bystander’s elbow in his gut. 

“Shit,” he gasped, trying to recover quickly to shout after his son. “Mieczyslaw! No!” 

He pushed past the villagers carelessly, his need to reach his son making his movements jerky and harsh. Once he broke from the crowd he came to stand by Argent, opposite the fae, his son, and two bodies. 

“Peter! Please, _please,_ let him go! Please! You’re killing him, Peter, just let go!” Stiles was openly panicking as he tugged at the fae’s arm, pushing at his chest to try and separate him from Harris.

John watched, helpless, as Stiles begged with his fiancé, but it wasn’t until Stiles started clawing at his hand around Harris’ neck that his eyes seemed to lose their blank and unseeing glaze. 

“Stiles…” Peter whispered, his voice gravelly and low, like he’d just woken up. 

Stiles didn’t stop pulling at the fae’s tight grip as he made eye contact with him, hoping Peter would read his face and let him go. 

He didn’t. 

Stiles felt Harris’ neck snap beneath his and Peter’s hands and it felt as though the floor had been pulled from beneath him. 

“Oh god, oh my god. What have you done? What did you do, Peter?” Stiles couldn’t breathe, it felt as though a pit had formed in his stomach. 

Stiles stumbled back, desperate to get away from Peter, from Harris’ dead body, needing the comfort of his father’s arms to ground him. 

“Mieczyslaw.” Stiles heard his dad call to him from behind. He knew he was only a few steps away from him now, but all it took was one snap of Peter’s fingers to pull him from his father’s grasp for the second time in half an hour. 

 

\--- 

 

“You were wrong about him, Mar. I don’t think any amount of time would make Stiles love me like I love him.”

“Oh Peter, I’m so sorry…” 

“I thought he was just, I don’t know, _shy,_ I guess.” He scoffed at himself. “I had convinced myself he was unused to magic and the attention of men, but as it turns out he was distant and awkward because he was forcing himself into the relationship.” 

“That’s not your fault, Peter. He started the courtship, whether he knew it or not, you couldn’t have known he did it accidentally. You fae have many powers, but telepathy isn’t one of them, sweetie. And he’s a smart boy, anyone would’ve assumed he knew what he was doing, especially with the signs he was giving you after,” Lydia tried to comfort Peter. 

She hated seeing him like that, but nothing she could do ever seemed to help. Though Peter had said after the death of his family just knowing she was there and hearing her talk, even about the most mundane things, had helped him, Lydia still felt like she should’ve done more. She had screamed herself hoarse every time when Peter’s family had died, and Peter had always looked after her until she gained her voice back enough to tell him exactly who she had been screaming for. Then they had looked after each other. 

“He won’t know about the bond.”

“You didn’t tell him?” Lydia asked, openly surprised. 

Peter just shook his head. 

“He never brought up feeling anything, so I figured it was one sided. A fae thing. I didn’t want to freak him out or scare him off with the idea of being bonded forever.” He laughed humourlessly. “Guess that didn’t work in my favour.” 

“Peter…” 

“I know, Mar. Save it.” 

“You need to tell him. The withdrawal feels much stronger than the creation of a bond, you know this. Why are you willing to let him suffer?” She asked, frowning. 

“Because he’d let me suffer just the same!” Peter argued, his eyes burning bright in fury and pain. 

“I always thought you were better than humans, Peter, but it seems you’ve picked up their pettiness while you’ve been away. It’s a nasty look on you, especially when you’re aiming it towards someone you claim to love.” 

Peter slumped, all the anger leaving his body immediately. 

“You’re right. I hate it when you’re right.” He hid his face in his hands before roughly pulling them through his hair. “What am I meant to do? He hates me. He’s _scared_ of me, Mar. He wouldn’t listen to me even if I could get within 15 feet of him.”

“So, I’ll go.” Lydia shrugged. 

“I’m sorry, you’re going to have to repeat that. It sounded like you said _you’d_ go.” 

“Don’t be a dick, Peter, or I’ll retract my offer.” Lydia glared. 

“You haven’t been to the human plane in centuries, Mar. Are you sure?” Peter asked carefully. 

“If it means you’ll stop moping, then yes. Big Bad Jr and I are tired of hearing you complain about your pathetic love life.” Despite her harsh words, Lydia had a soft look on her face.

“Thanks, Martin.” 

“Don’t mention it, Peter.” She dismissed him easily. “I’ll go in a few days, when I know he’ll be feeling the bond and therefore be more likely to listen to me.” 

“He’ll be in pain though.” 

“Then he shouldn’t have messed with my oldest friend’s feelings, then should he?” She said easily with a smile sharp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't figure how to write the next bit which is why this took so long to come out. I basically cut this chap short so I can figure out the next bit without leaving you guys without an update for too long :') this has been written for weeks, but the next bit just doesn't want to happen, but hopefully i can get it done in the next few weeks! 
> 
> Peter and Lydia talk about bonds and to clear that up: Stiles now knows about how literal "by blood and soul" was after his and Peter's argument, but he still doesn't know how he and Peter had started to form a kind of magical physical/emotional bond between them and what the repercussions of breaking that could be. He can't tell that what he's gonna be feeling is the bond bc his control over his magic isn't refined enough yet 
> 
> Comment below if there's anything specific you guys want to see before this fic ends or in my next fic


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I guess I thought he could always control himself.”
> 
> “Just not when it came to your safety. You mean a lot to him.” 
> 
> “Not anymore,” Stiles whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been working so hard on this chap :') I wanted to get it out earlier and I just wanted to push through the writers block, so idk if it's going to be any good or not BUT i hope you all like it!
> 
> comments and kudos are always appreciated! feel free to send me prompts on my tumblr - stellewrites

It had been a week since Stiles had last seen Peter, and things were back to how they used to be before he had made the deal, with the exception of the village’s health. Melissa and the Sheriff had been holding their breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop and for the illnesses to pour back in and spread like wild fire, but it never happened and slowly the village grew less and less tense as the days passed by peacefully. 

Stiles, on the other hand, had taken to sleeping in Scott’s bed each night, claiming that he didn’t want his brother to catch a chill so soon after becoming healthy. And though Scott didn’t mention it, he knew Stiles needed the comfort himself after what he had been through with Peter on that last day. He needed the safety of his older brother to help him fall asleep each night and to keep the guilt and nightmares at bay. 

And once the village realised they weren’t going to be attacked by illness nor vengeful fae, they quickly turned on the Spark. Scott knew he could do with all the support he could get.

Stiles could barely step out of his house before he felt the heavy weight of the villagers’ stares as he walked around the town. He could no longer do odd jobs and help out where needed, as it seemed he was to be avoided at all cost, even by the children he used to babysit. Only Scott, Allison, and Danny would talk to him when he saw them around at work. The village had always given him a wide berth since before his mother died, but now they didn’t try hiding it from the sheriff. They openly glared as he walked past and their mutters were spoke clearer as soon as he turned his back. 

As one week turned into two, Stiles became steadily more and more reclusive, feeling no need to leave the house and finding it hard to face his mistakes. He couldn’t stop thinking about the look of terror on Harris’ face before he died, the screams of his village as he left and the sickening silence he came back to. He felt like a hole had begun to dig itself in his chest and it weighed him down immensely. 

Despite his brother’s best attempts, Stiles felt wary around everyone after the supposed attack Peter stopped. He had told his dad, and John had become concerned, hence why he hadn’t tried as hard as Scott to get him out of the house after he started leaving less and less, focusing more on protective runes he could carve into the house’s foundations. Though John started to grow more and more concerned as the bags grew darker under Stiles eyes and his face started to thin out as he ate less and less each day. 

“Hey, Mietek? I was out with Allison and we bought some sweet bread from the bakery, but we got too much for just the two of us, so I saved some for you if you want it,” Scott offered cheerfully, but Stiles could see the concern in his eyes. 

“Thanks, Scotty,” Stiles reached for the bread, ripping a small piece off and eating it. He didn’t want to worry his family, but as of late eating had seemed like too much effort, and he could hardly swallow past the lump in his throat and the hole in his chest. 

He saw Scott’s smile grow genuinely at the sight of him eating and his guilt grew heavier. He didn’t know why he was acting like this. His emotions were all over the place, and he knew it wasn’t just because of what happened with Peter in the middle of the village. He’d been researching as much as he could with the books Peter had left behind, but none of them explained what he was feeling. The closest he had found was the bonds between alpha Weres and their betas, but he didn’t belong to the werecoyote pack that lived in the forest, so it couldn’t be a broken pack bond. 

“You should come with us next time, Mr. Finstock has made these new cinnamon swirls and you have to try them,” Scott said hopefully. 

Stiles sighed. 

“I know you guys are worried about me, and I’m so grateful that I have you, but I can’t face going out there, Scott. Not anymore.”

“But why? It wasn’t your fault, and the village need to realise that you were affected by this too. The more you go out, the sooner the village will start to act normally around you again; I know it’s gonna be hard Mietek, but it’ll get easier and you’ll always have me, and even Allison with you.” Scott squeezed his brother’s shoulder in comfort. 

“I don’t feel like I have a place in the village anymore.”

“What? Of course, you do.” Scott frowned. 

“Let’s be real, Scott, I didn’t really have a place to begin with, but after all this, no one trusts me, and no one wants me around. I can feel their hate as soon as I step out that door.” Stiles shook his head and mumbled. “Maybe my mom was right, maybe I do belong in the forest.” 

“Don’t say that,” Scott demanded vehemently. His tone shocked Stiles, and he looked at his brother with wide eyes and a parted mouth. “What about your dad? Me and mom? If you lived in the forest, you’d never see us again.” 

Stiles’ shoulders sagged as he sighed once more. 

“I know, it wouldn’t work. I’d be coming back every other day, you wouldn’t be able to keep me away, no matter how unsafe it is for me here.” Stiles smiled sadly at Scott. “Not to mention Peter doesn’t want me anymore, so I doubt he’d let me use his Ring to get me in. Either way I’m stuck somewhere I don’t belong, where I don’t fit in.” 

“I think you should talk to your dad, Mieczyslaw. He’d wanna know you were feeling like this,” Scott said seriously. 

“Yeah, you’re right.” Stiles nodded, absently chewing on a bit of the bread and wrapping his arms tightly around himself. He just needed to close that never-ending hole in his chest, but no matter what he did, it just grew larger. 

He shouldn’t have been surprised when he felt Scott wrap his own arms around him, but he still hesitated a moment before unwrapping his own arms and hiding his face in Scott’s shoulder. He was glad they never grew out of their casual affection, they both needed the comfort sometimes. 

“I’ll talk to him when he gets back later, gives me time to plan out what I’m gonna say.”

Scott nodded along. “I’ll see you later then, I’ve got to meet mom before she thinks I’ve gotten into trouble and comes looking for me.” 

“Thanks, Scotty. For everything.” Stiles said, growing shy as Scott turned back to face him with a blinding smile. 

“Anytime, Mietek. What are brothers for?” 

 

\--- 

 

Stiles was nervous to talk to his dad, but he knew they needed to talk about what happened. Stiles had been especially tight lipped and closed off after the incident. He knew it wasn’t helping to keep it all bottled up, but he didn’t know how to talk about the gruesome deaths he witnessed up close; or the almost feral look in Peter’s eyes until they recognised Stiles; or how he was so, so wrong about Peter this whole time, but despite that, a part of him still loved him. 

“Geez, kid, you’ve been dealing with guilt on top of everything else?” John sighed after Stiles explained how he was feeling to him. “This _wasn’t_ your fault, Mieczyslaw. I want you to know that.” 

“But I’m the one who brought him here, and even after all he’s done I still love him,” Stiles muttered. 

_“Oh, Mietek._ What happened was a traumatic experience for you, you don’t need to be thinking you brought this on too. Peter is in control of his own actions and after finding out what those men were going to do, I can’t say I wouldn’t have done something similar if I had the power.”

“Dad…” 

John sighed. “I’m sorry, I just can’t imagine losing you.” Stiles leant into his father’s open arms, basking in the comfort he offered. 

“Is it bad that I don’t feel guilty over Harris’ death? I felt his neck snap beneath my own hands, and now, only a few weeks later, I’m fine with it? I don’t feel a thing when I think of Harris or the other hunters and I don't know if I should be scared.”

“I don’t know how to explain it, Mietek, but I wouldn’t beat yourself up over it. He sure as hell didn’t have any restraint when it came to hurting you.” 

Stiles nodded against his father’s shoulder. 

“Only time can help with the nightmares and a broken heart, we know that after your mother, but I’ll be here for you. Mel and Scott too,” John continued lowly. 

“I know. My hands just feel dirty all the time now, I feel like the village can see their blood on my hands. They avoid me like I was the one who killed the hunters. I don’t feel safe here anymore, what if there are more people after me? What if they know I’m not human?”

“We’ll protect you.” 

“I don’t want to have to rely on someone being with me 24/7 for the rest of my life just so I’m not constantly looking over my shoulder, dad.” Stiles looked away, unable to meet his dad’s eyes as he suggested his next thought. “Maybe I should just…”

“You should what? _Leave?_ Where would you go?” John asked, upset and frustrated by the idea. 

“Another village maybe? I don’t know, the forest doesn’t want me, so I don’t have many options. I just know I can’t stay here for much longer. I’m going to go insane, I can’t stay cooped up in here for much longer, but outside is even worse. The feeling in my gut is ten times stronger.” 

John frowned, torn by the pain his son was obviously going through and the pain of not having his son by his side if he were to move to another village for his own safety and comfort. 

“If it’s what you think will make you feel safer, then we’ll move,” John said decisively, shrugging as if it were no big deal.

“What? _No,_ dad, you’ve lived here your whole life, being the sheriff is important to you.”

“Exactly, I’ve been here my whole life, maybe it’s time for a change of scenery. And being the sheriff is just a job, Mietek, it’ll always come second to you. Melissa has been twiddling her thumbs ever since Peter healed everyone in the village, so she’ll look forward to having some new patients that aren't you with your headaches, and Scott will just have to meet up with Allison a little less frequently. It’ll probably do them some good with how they hang off of each other at the moment. I know Chris will appreciate a bit of Scott-free-time with his daughter.”

Stiles teared up, clearing his throat before he spoke so his voice wouldn’t break halfway through his sentence. 

“You really think they’d come with?” 

“Of course, we’re family. We stick together, can’t get rid of us that easily.” John pulled Stiles in for another hug. 

“I wish I could’ve confronted Peter one last time, I wasn’t willing to listen before. He- It took me off guard, seeing him like that. He was never like that around me before, and after reading mom’s books I guess my view of Peter was skewed, or biased. I-.” He huffed as he pulled back. “I never saw both sides of him, I chose not to because I didn’t like what I saw. I was so defensive when I argued with you because I didn’t like what I was hearing, I couldn’t accept it. Especially after his first stint with the hunters in the village, I guess I thought he could always control himself.”

“Just not when it came to your safety. You mean a lot to him.” 

“Not anymore,” Stiles whispered.

“You don’t know that, if it’s hitting you this hard, it could be just as bad for him, Mietek.” 

“I just want an explanation and an apology. I may have blocked out his ‘bad side’, but that doesn’t mean it was ok of him to kill those people or involve me in Harris’ death.”

“Closure is always good for healing, but we don’t always get what we want or need, son.”

“I know… I would’ve apologised to him too; for not accepting him or listening to him, pushing into being someone he wasn’t.”

The sheriff is silent for a moment, gauging the look on his son’s face. 

“This is hypothetical right? You’re not going to go looking for him in the forest, it’s too dangerous.” 

“Yeah, no, of course, dad,” Stiles said distractedly. “Thanks for the talk though, pops. It’s- I feel better, even if it’s only a little.” Stiles smiled ruefully. 

“Just glad I could help, you know you can always talk to me.” 

“I know, thanks, dad,” Stile said, hugging his dad tightly once more. “I’ll see you later. Scott and I will have dinner ready by time you and Mel come home.”

“Ok, kid,” John ruffled Stiles’ hair, before leaving back to work. 

Stiles stayed sat in his and Scott’s room for a little longer, thinking over everything they had spoken about. 

 

\--- 

 

“I don’t think you have the ingredients for that one, honey,” a voice suddenly spoke by Stiles’ ear. He jumped up from his seat, his arms jerking in a subconscious mix of defence and balance as he backed away from the red-haired woman stood in his living room. 

“H-how are you- You shouldn’t be able- _Who are you?”_ Stiles stammered. 

“Funny, Peter never mentioned how jumpy you are.” 

“Peter? You know Peter?” Stiles’ eyes grew brighter at the mention of the fae, all caution thrown out of the window and his barriers lowered. Maybe this woman could send a message to him for Stiles get him the closure he needed to fill this empty pit in his chest. 

“I do. And you should probably fix your runes so that the undead can’t enter your house either, a lot of creatures will take advantage of that loophole.” 

“Like yourself?” Stiles asked cautiously. 

Lydia just tilted her head. 

“How are the headaches, Stiles?” At the mention of his migraines, the Spark lifted a hand to his temple in hopes of easing away the painful throbbing. 

“Bad. Really ba- Wait a minute, how do you even know I’ve been-. Have you been _watching_ me?”

The bashee scoffed.

“I wouldn’t waste my time on something so trivial, especially when I already know what you’re experiencing.” 

“You know what’s happening to me?” Stiles asked, breathless. Finally, he might find some answers for his behaviour recently. He was desperate to know why his body seemed to be failing despite Stiles’ best efforts to go back to how he was before he met Peter. “My appetite has just gone completely, everything tastes like ash; I can’t tell if my headaches are from reading too late into the night or because I’m not drinking enough, but no matter what they don’t ease off; m-my paranoia has doubled, at least… I don’t- Is this… _Normal_ for what’s happening to me?” 

Lydia was shocked into silence. Surely what she heard couldn’t be right, otherwise Stiles was feeling the full effects of the bond and its rejection. And if he’d been separated from Peter this whole time, no wonder his body was slowly dying. Humans weren’t made to withstand a broken bond, it had never been heard of. 

“Do you feel a pull towards the forest? Towards Peter?” Lydia asked urgently. 

“I- I don’t know, not really?” Stiles said, wrapping his arms around his chest when he felt the heavy guilt throb beneath his ribs. 

Lydia narrowed her eyes at the movement, but let it go. 

“How often do you end up wandering to the edge of the forest, or find yourself heading that way?” 

“Not often, but I don’t really leave my house anymore. The furthest I go is the back yard to tend to the few herbs we have.” Stiles shrugged. 

“You don’t leave? Why?” She asked, her eyes wide and interest piqued. 

“I don’t feel safe out there.”

“Outside of your magic?” Lydia guessed.

“I- Yeah I guess so.” Stiles frowned. 

“When you went outside of your magic, did you feel a pull to the forest?”

“Not a pull, but my-.” Stiles cut himself off, only continuing quietly when Lydia sent him a small, reassuring smile. “My guilt felt stronger. Ached in my chest, pulled tight like I could barely breath half the time, and the paranoia that the villagers are out to get me didn’t help either. I thought I was having a panic attack at first, but I know what they’re like and this was different.” 

Lydia’s shoulders fell in understanding and her eyes held a sad look. 

“Stiles. That isn’t guilt, and you’re right, it’s not a panic attack either. It’s your bond with Peter trying its hardest to pull you back together before it breaks entirely.” 

“Is that why I miss him so much?” Stiles whispered dejectedly. 

Lydia nodded. 

“I didn’t realise your connection was reciprocated so strongly both ways, otherwise I would’ve come sooner. I thought you’d have a migraine at worst, not be feeling the full effects of a breaking bond.” Lydia looked through her bag until she found what she was looking for: a small bottle full of a dark liquid, and a pouch full of brightly coloured petals. “Here, take a few sips of this, it should help ease the symptoms for a bit. Don’t take it more than three times a day or you’ll only make yourself feel worse.”

“Thanks.” Stiles nodded and took the bottle from her hand, uncapping it immediately and taking a swig. He felt the effects immediately, his shoulders loosening and chest easing for the first time in weeks. 

“When you need more all you have to do is grind a handful of these flowers until they’re a paste and then add water. Preferably fresh.”

“There’s no magic needed?” 

“The flowers are already magic, Stiles.” 

“Maybe a little extra magic would get it tasting less gritty,” he mumbled, wincing at the after taste. 

Lydia chuckled. 

“The grit is what’s good for you, so make sure you drink it all, fox.”

Stiles head snapped up at the nickname and felt his heart thump extra hard at the memories of Peter’s fond nicknames for him. 

If Lydia noticed Stiles tense all over again, she didn’t let it show, instead she turned to leave through the front door. 

“I’ll be back soon to check on you, but for now the crows will have to make sure you stay out of trouble.”

“The crows can’t get within twenty feet of this house, it’s part of one of my runes.” Stiles figured telling her about his runes was the least of his worries, if she had wanted to harm him she would’ve done when she first appeared or gave him the bottle. “Hey, what’s your name?”

“Why do you want to know?” 

“So, when I fix the loophole in my runes I don’t accidentally lock you out forever too, if I keep your name and face in mind while I’m making them, you should be able to at least knock on the door next time you come around.” 

“Martin. Though my friends call me Mar.”

“It was nice to meet you, Mar.” 

Lydia smiled. 

“You too, Spark.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk if i made Stiles too trusting, but I figured he'd be in so much pain that he'd be willing to ask anyone for help that had any knowledge and knew Peter. like he was only hesitant to talk to his family bc he didn't want to worry them


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As soon as the banshee had left, Stiles had collected all his books and notes, set on fixing his barriers, but the thought of Peter, _of speaking to and seeing Peter,_ wouldn’t leave his head long enough for him to concentrate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> damn, it's been a while huh?

“You need to see him.”

“I can’t, Mar, you know I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Don’t start, Martin. I’m not in the mood for your bullshit right now, the bond feels likes its tearing me apart.”

“And how do you think Stiles is feeling? He’s only human, he can only take so much before-”  
“Stiles isn’t feeling the effects because this whole thing was in my head! How many times do I need to go over this before you get it into your thick head? Or do you just like to see me suffer?”

Lydia tensed her jaw, her eyes watery, but fierce.

“One of us is being thick, Peter, but it’s certainly not me. Stiles was in love with you, still is! But he can’t come to you, can he? Not without putting himself at risk in the forest, so, you need to go see him and fix all this. There’s still time.”

“He doesn’t want to see me, I know he doesn’t. And I don’t blame him; he wants to stay with his family in his village. I couldn’t be enough for him to want to leave his family.”

“You expect so much of him, you of all people should know how hard it is to live without your family.”

“I wouldn’t have kept him away! He could’ve visited his family secretly; his magic would’ve been strong enough to go on his own in a year or so with practice. And why _wouldn’t_ he want to live in the forest? It has so much more to offer than his ignorant little village, he’s said so himself.”

“You wouldn’t go with him? To the village, to see his family.” Lydia wanted to tell him what he was saying was selfish, but she had suspicions of his reasons why and she wanted to hear him acknowledge them.

“I mean- I could, if he wanted me to, but…”

“…But seeing his family makes you miss yours even more.”

Peter’s walls went up immediately.

“I won’t go see him.”

“Peter, stop being so _stubborn_. Stiles said himself that he was feeling the effects of a broken bond once he knew what that was,” she snapped.  
“’Stiles said’? You visited him?”

“I- Yes. Today, in fact. He isn’t doing so well, Peter.”

Peter shook his head in denial.

“He’s getting no sleep, plagued by nightmares of his villagers dying,” Peter flinched, “And you leaving.”

“They’ll ease, eventually.”

“In your company, yes, and maybe alone if his spark was less integrated with the bond, but from the look of him, he’s as badly affected as you. He wouldn’t be suffering as much as he is if he didn’t feel the same way…”

“Maybe it was mutual, but how could he not hate me now? I’ve caused him so much pain, physically and mentally.”

“No, Peter,” Lydia shook her head sadly. “He still wears your ring.”

“I’d be able to tell if he wore the ring, Martin, don’t bother lying to me.”

“He doesn’t wear it as he should, but he keeps it close to his heart all the same,” she argued back.

But Peter didn’t hear her; or chose to ignore her.

“I can’t put him through anything else, I have to stay away. He’ll get over the bond soon enough. His spark is strong.” He nodded to himself. “I’ve fucked up enough already.”

“Peter-.” Lydia didn’t get to finish her sentence before Peter had disappeared, using the rest of his strength to go undetected and untraceable by Lydia. _“Idiot,”_ she hissed. 

 

\--- 

 

As soon as the banshee had left, Stiles had collected all his books and notes, set on fixing his barriers, but the thought of Peter, _of speaking to and seeing Peter,_ wouldn’t leave his head long enough for him to concentrate.

It wasn’t until he reread his notes that he realised he had been looking up how to locate and apologise to a fae, though from how vague his notes were, it seemed the books he had weren’t too helpful for either topic.

_Damn, if only I had the books I’d left with Peter. Or Peter himself. Guess I’m just going to have to wing it._

Stiles had taken to keeping his ring on a chain around his neck. He couldn’t get rid of it, but seeing it glint in the light every other second had been making Stiles’ gut churn, he couldn’t stand seeing it all the time, but needed to keep it close.

He didn’t understand that need until after the conversation with Mar.

“Bonded,” he whispered to himself. Relief, awe, and dread filled his heart all at once, but at least Stiles had a name for what he’s been feeling, been struggling with for the last few weeks. Or if Martin is to be believed, months.

He picked up the pouch of petals Mar had given him and put them in the draw beside his bed, not wanting his dad to think they’re a new ingredient for him to try and butcher one of mom’s old recipes with. He slipped the bottle into his bag and grabbed the notes he had made. And after putting on his coat and boots Stiles stood at the door, debating whether he was ready to leave the safety of his house yet; though the effects of Mar’s medicine seemed to already be making him feel less paranoid and anxious. He clenched the strap of his bag tight in his hands before closing his eyes and opening his door, marching shakily outside and not letting himself turn around.

He opened them at the sound of birds tweeting and quickly squinted them closed again when the sun shone too brightly in his eyes. He stopped and turned back to look at his house, only ten steps away, but possibly the furthest Stiles has been since Peter left and his symptoms settled in.

He shook his head. No time for that right now, he needed to get the list of things he’d need to be able to find and apologise to Peter.

Ginger, an iron nail, a map of the village and forest drawn by Stiles’ hand, and a leaf.

 _This shouldn’t be too hard,_ Stiles thought, walking around towards his father’s shed where he knew he could find a nail, hopefully iron. _And we’ve got ginger in the pantry._

The leaf was going to be the hard part, what with it being the middle of winter. He needed one that could hold its shape and wouldn’t crumble under Stiles’ pen.

Or maybe…

Maybe he could just breathe some life back into one of the sad looking leaves resting against the bottom of the tree trunk near his neighbour’s house. _Perfect._

Stiles picked up the largest leaf, he’d need the writing room considering how he’s known to ramble on. He carefully kept it cupped in his hands; he’d perk the leaf up once he was back inside and could set up the runes needed. He headed back, placing his leaf, nail, and ginger on his bed along with his books and runes from the main room. He didn’t need his family finding out what was he was doing before he had a chance to explain. The Spark grabbed a pen and spare piece of ratty parchment from Scott’s side of the room and started to draw what he could remember the village looking like; paying extra attention to places like his mom’s old favourite bakery, Mel and his dad’s work, then, moving on to add the forest, he tried to include all its wonderous, secret hideaways he’d gotten to visit.

Once he was done he laid it out flat on the floor and surrounded the wobbly-drawn map with basic protection runes, as well as runes that would alert him to anything dangerous coming too close. He quickly rubbed his thumb over the runes and kept Peter in mind, not wanting the map to mistake him as a danger just because he’s a fae.

He dug under his bed until he found the stone Peter had given him, the bridge rune carved deep and angrily into its centre.

Stiles knew he needed the connection to Peter the stone offered because of their breaking bond. At the time he had felt crazy for wanting to fulfil his half of the bridge after everything that happened, but he couldn’t sleep without knowing it was beneath his bed. So, angrily, at two in the morning one night, he got up and borrowed Scott’s old wood carving knife and dug into the stone the image of the rune that had been floating around his head for days.

He wishes he could say he slept like a baby once the unnamed itch lessened to a more tolerable buzz beneath his skin, but the nightmares seemed unaffected by the stone’s presence.

He rubbed his wide palm over the smooth stone, his callouses catching on the ridges he’d made.

“God, I hope this works.”

He turned to pick up the nail he’d knocked earlier with his foot when a voice spoke up.

“Hope _what_ works?”

“Agh! Melissa! Hi!” Stiles said, his arms flinging out and almost knocking the nail further from his reach. He turned on his spot on the floor, not bothering to hide the map and magic. “And dad. Great. What are you guys doing home so early?”

“We’re not.” Mel smiled, “It’s 5pm, and you know your dad doesn’t finish late on a Tuesday.”

“Oh, yeah,” Stiles turned to the window to see how dark it had gotten since Mar had left however many hours ago. Had it really taken him that long to pick a leaf and draw a map? Stiles needed to take another dose of that flower juice, his sense of time was all over the place. “Sorry, I would’ve started dinner if I’d realised.”

“It’s ok. You seem... _busy.”_ Mel leaned forward slightly to see the map more clearly before turning to pin Stiles with a gaze that said, ‘tell me what you’re planning immediately or else’ and Stiles knew even the strongest of men couldn’t stand against that gaze for too long, so he quickly took a gulp of his magic juice and explained.

“I was visited earlier by Peter’s friend, a banshee, she goes by Martin, though her friends call her Mar, and she knew what’s been wrong with me and gave me some medicine to help keep the pain from a broken soul bond from killing me. But as we were talking it got me thinking about Peter and how I’ve been expecting him to come to me to fix things, but maybe I should be the one to go to him! You know, in case there’s some dumb fae rule that says he can’t step into the village or I have to make the first move. So, I looked it up, even though the books I have aren’t exactly bursting with information on the way fae do things, or fae politics, or fae courtship-." 

“Wait, Mietek, slow down." 

“But I did find a fae location spell, or well, it’s not specifically for fae, but I’ve tweaked it so it should be ok. And I’ve got all I need to do it, or good enough substitutes; all I need to do is write on my leaf, plant my nail in my map, and badabing badaboom, I’ve found Peter. I’ll go to the forest and meet Peter and apologise and then he’ll apologise, and then maybe we’ll smooch a bit I don’t know, that’s not important.” Stiles ducked his head and waved his hands at his dad’s raised brows embarrassedly. “What’s important is that everything will be alright again. I’ll have Peter, and the bond won’t be broken so I won’t be dying so you’ll still have me and it’ll all end happily ever after.”

 _“Mietek.”_ His dad was stood with wide eyes and his jaw hanging open, leaving Melissa to be the one to handle the bullshit this time with a firm voice. “What medicine?”

Stiles handed her the bottle and the little bag full of petals.

“Its magic,” he admits hesitantly. “But I’ve already felt so much better since taking it this afternoon. Mar says I’m suffering from a broken soul bond with Peter, and that humans don’t usually get affected this badly, but my spark might explain why the connection is so strong.”

“Mar is the- the banshee?” His dad asked, and stiles nodded silently.

“Is Peter going through something similar?”

“I don’t know, she didn’t say, but I think so. I think it’s why she even came to visit, to see how I was faring, but she didn’t realise I’d be this bad.” Stiles shrugged.

“And you want to go to the forest,” Stiles nodded, “To find Peter and make up, to help the bond and your relationship?” Mel asked.

“Yeah, pretty much. That’s what all this is for.” Stiles waved to the stuff surrounding him. “Figured, he would’ve come if he could’ve, maybe he’s even worse off than me. So, it’s up to me to go find him and fix this.”

“Mietek, its dangerous going in the forest. You’ve seen first-hand some of the things that live there and without Peter’s protection…” John shook his head. “I can’t let you do this.”

“I still have his ring, dad. Peter said as long as I have his ring I’ll be safe in the forest.”

“You’re not well enough.”

“I could be if I keep drinking this stuff before I go,” Stiles shook the small bottle.

“He is already looking less pale, John,” Melissa sighed. “And he hasn’t rubbed at his temples once since he started talking.”

He huffed. He knew she was right, that was the most Stiles has said since the migraines from the bond made his jaw ache too much to speak, not to mention the exhaustion. “That doesn’t mean he’d be able to hold his own against some of the things that live in the forest, that hunt us in the forest.”

“I’m a Spark, dad. You haven’t seen half of what I can do, I’ll be fine.” Ok, so that was a little stretch of the truth, since even Stiles didn’t know half of what he was capable of yet.

“Fine.” John amended. “But wait a few days, please. Just until you get your strength up, ok?”

“Ok, dad.” Stiles nodded, then pointed over his shoulder to the map. “This can last weeks, so I’m gonna finish the spell now since its all set up and use it later when I’m feeling stronger.”

“Finish up quick, then come help with dinner,” Mel interjected before his dad could try to argue.

“Sure thing!” 

 

\--- 

 

Stiles went to bed early that night claiming the medicine had made him feel a little drowsy, and like he might actually sleep deep and peacefully through the night, so his family didn’t even blink when he shut himself in his room hours before he usually would, wanting him to get as much rest as possible.

He was under his covers holding his leaf to his chest and blowing warm air on it in hopes it would look a little less like it was about to fall apart. He didn’t want to use too much magical energy since he still had to finish the location spell; he peeked out at the map on his floor with the nail stuck vaguely where his house was and looked back to the leaf that had gone from crumbling and brown to delicate and orange. Well, at least he was able to take it back a season, he wasn’t fully convinced he could heal a leaf like he had animals with Peter in the forest.

Regardless, the autumn leaf was now enough for him to write on, which was all he needed.

He grabbed his pen and stopped himself from writing whatever shit came into his head. This needed to be special. 

 

\---

 

By the time Scott came to bed Stiles was fast asleep, though a few hours later saw him awake once more and setting the stolen ginger alight over his map. He pulled his ring from around his neck and placed it in the middle of the map and let the ash from the ginger fall around it, lightly blowing the smoke towards his window. He closed his eyes and hoped that Scott wouldn’t suddenly wake to pee, thankful that his brother didn’t have the strongest smell. Once he felt the flames lick at his fingers he opened his eyes again to see the ring had moved over towards the forest, closer to the cluster of trees he’d drawn on the left than the river on the right.

He grinned.

_Found you._

He picked up his ring and slid it on its chain again, noticing the burnt ash mark it had left behind. The rest of the ash had collected into clumps on various areas of the map, and it wasn’t until he recognised the house that belonged to one of the young hunters and the area of forest Peter said unofficially belonged to the wendigos that he realised they represented potential threats.

He ripped the map in half, leaving behind the half with his home and nail stuck to the floor and rolling up the forest half. He quietly grabbed his bag and coat from underneath his bed and slipped out of his room quietly. He knew his dad was going to be fuming in the morning, but his bond hadn’t stopped _singing_ since he started the ritual and he didn’t think he could have waited any longer to go to Peter without being restrained.

He wanted to see Peter, and it wasn’t just the bond speaking, Stiles missed him dearly, would’ve been eager and reckless to see him after a week even without the bond. He loved him.

Outside, it was dark, so Stiles didn’t have to be too careful leaving the village, but once he reached the edge of the forest he stopped to light his lamp and pull out his map and old fox mask.

He took a deep breath and felt the weight of his ring rise and fall with his chest.

“Here goes nothing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feel free to comment if you have any questions about this chap, idk if all of it makes sense or if I've left things unexplained bc i wrote it and beta checked it at like 3am 
> 
> so uhm hopefully wont be another 2 months til the next chapter,,,


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles flinched at the sound of a snapping twig to his left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man, this was gonna be the last chapter but there's going to be a short kind of prologue thing to tie everything up but its only about 1.5k long  
>  _boy_ has it been a wild ride getting here. I honestly thought I'd never end up finishing it at one point, the inpirtion just left completely 
> 
> your comments/kudos always get me writing, even if it is a lil slowly sometimes  
> i'm on tumblr @stellewrites and sometimes I post a bunch of edits I make for my fics,, although recently i've not been on it much in all honestly

Stiles flinched at the sound of a snapping twig to his left, but stayed on his path, knowing if he panicked and ran blindly, he’d be dead in no time. The map said he was safe, so it was probably just the gaze of a wary deer that he could feel on his back. Though the feeling was a little too similar to Peter’s when they’d first met for Stiles’ comfort. The bond already had him on edge, and he hadn’t really thought about what he was going to do once he found Peter’s Ring if the fae didn’t show up to speak to him, so when he felt a breath on the back of his neck, beneath the strap of his mask, he inhaled sharply and almost lost his balance trying to turn around quick enough to catch whatever was behind him. 

His panting breath echoed in the mask, leaving his face feeling warm and clammy in contrast to the exposed skin of his hands and neck. He clenched his fists, keeping one raised holding his lantern, as his eyes tried their best to search the darkness for whatever could’ve been stood so close to him, but the holes he’d cut in the fox face didn’t offer the best view, despite how wide his own eyes were behind it, and he desperately didn’t want to remove it in case his worst fears were true. The mask was his best shield, he knew. 

He looked down at his map once he figured there was no immediate danger. Seeing no cluster of ash anywhere near him, he looked at the distance left on his route and sighed before looking towards his right and squinting into the woods. The woods were thick with over-arching branches, blocking out any light the moon could’ve offered to help Stiles see further, as it was he looked quickly back at his map and decided to risk planning a new, quicker route. It might curve a little close to a patch of land that a well-known demon tended to operate on, but it was going to get Stiles to Peter a hell of a lot quicker than the safe route he’d mapped out at home with his dad’s worried face in mind. 

Of course, his protection runes only protected the areas he’d specifically noted on his map, but he’d be at Peter’s Ring in no time and he didn’t recognise the new route on his map as somewhere Peter had warned him away from. If he’d kept on his current route, he’d never make it back home in time to stop his family from worrying themselves into early graves.

He’d made up his mind. 

He set off on the overgrown track he could see trail off on his right, his steps surer, his determination overpowering the fear he had felt moments prior; though it still lingered in the minute shake of his hands and his quickened breath muted behind the mask. Maybe it was his overconfidence or wilful ignorance that caused him not to notice the thin, deep grooves in the forest floor leading the way in the direction he was headed. 

 

\--- 

 

As soon as he stepped into the clearing the realisation that he’d made a big, big mistake hit him square in the gut. 

The hairs on his arms raised and he was a second from sprinting back to his planned route, impatient bond be damned, when the same soft breath as before puffed against his ear. 

“A fox, how rare.” 

He jumped, brandishing his lantern like a weapon as he stumbled backwards into the clearing, exactly where he didn’t want to be. He felt an energy wash over him, making him temporarily dizzy, and looked down to see small clusters of white flowers glowing ghostly in the light. Stiles remembered reading one of his mother’s books on flowers when he was young and thinking Sanguinarias were beautiful until she told him their thick, red sap could melt flesh if left untreated on the skin for too long. 

He didn’t really like them much after that, but Scott thought they sounded cool. 

“Bloodroot.” He took a step back, he was already stuck in the fae’s circle, he might as well create a distance from the flowers that were the physical form of her magic. And if the flowers were an honest portrayal of her power, she was _strong,_ which meant Stiles was _fucked._

“Mm, and _clever,_ too. You really are a rare treat, huh?” 

He whipped around at the sound of her voice, louder this time, but thankfully a good distance away. Stiles watched as she approached from the other side of the clearing, her sharp features catching in what stray beams of moonlight were able to break through the trees. Just like when Stiles first saw Peter, her features seemed to change before her, though she seemed comfortable settling on a mix that was closer to animal than human. Or at least, Stiles assumed it was some sort of animal, but he couldn’t put a name to its exact species. 

He was about to reply when the fae sneered at his lantern and bared her teeth, swiping her hand in a horizontal motion a second before a gust of wind blew and the warm, faux safety the flame created was wiped out and Stiles was left facing the fae in the cold moonlight. The only thing keeping him from screaming in terror being the mask firmly covering his face and keeping him safe. It hadn’t even budged from the force of the fae’s strong wind. 

The closer she got, the more unnatural her form seemed; limbs too long, cheekbones too high, and eyes frenzied and full of a cruel pleasure. 

“My, what big teeth you have,” Stiles said, his voice breaking mid-sentence, though he was surprised he was able to speak past the fear lodged in his throat at all. 

The fae chuckled. 

“Oh, you’re funny. I’m going to enjoy playing with you, little fox.” She grinned. 

_“Don’t_ call me that!” Stiles snapped. His heart lurching immediately after, angering the fae wasn’t going to help his situation, and going by how her face had dropped, she wasn’t happy. 

“Or maybe I’ll just finish with you now. No need to waste time teaching you manners, is there?” 

She stepped forward, her claws growing long enough to drag across the floor and scrape deep into the mossy earth of the clearing. 

Stiles was frozen to the spot, his feet unable to move. His mother had always compared him to a deer when he was young due to his bright eyes and unsteady limbs, and then, as he stood stock still beneath the fae’s cold gaze, he couldn’t help but feel once more like a deer caught in lamplights. If he wasn’t aware of the pure fear and adrenalin pumping through his body, he’d think the fae had something to do with his feet being unable to move, but as it was he could feel himself trembling. 

She grinned meanly, a second row of teeth, hidden just behind the first, visible at this distance, and she slowly lifted her lumbering arm to strike down at the Spark. 

“Tell me your name, and I’ll make sure it’ll be over in a second,” she whispered sweetly. 

“You’re not the fae that deserves my name,” he whispered. 

Her arm flew down viciously. 

 

\--- 

 

“Mar? Look I know you probably don’t want to see me right now, but…” Peter stopped, seeing the shaken look on Lydia’s face. The way she was gasping for breath as sweat dripped from her forehead was too familiar to Peter by now for him not to know she had just finished screaming or was desperately trying to hold it in for his ear drums’ sake. 

“It’s ok, Mar, I’m here. I’m sorry. You’ll be ok, you always are. Scream if you need to.” He doesn’t know how he managed to miss her first cry, maybe too tied up in his own thoughts of Stiles. 

“Mie…” She mumbled weakly against his ear, her face pulled into a painful grimace. 

“What?” 

_“Stiles.”_

Peter pulled back, looking into her tearful eyes before he disappeared in thin air to find his bondmate. Before it was too late. 

 

\--- 

 

Stiles threw his arms up to feebly protect himself from the fae’s attack, hoping to stop her from breaking his mask. Though when he didn’t feel sharp claws slice through flesh and bone, and instead heard a deep roar and pained screech, his eyes flew open to see Peter wrestling with the fae, his face one of fury and pain. 

Stiles knew Peter was a powerful fae, possibly one of the most powerful in the forest, but he had been weakened by the breaking bond, just as Stiles had been, and it showed in how his attacks didn’t seem to stun the fae for long enough, how his own wounds weren’t healing. Stiles could hear his laboured breath and his own panicked lungs wheezed in sympathy. 

He had to _do something._

Peter wasn’t going to win in this state and Stiles hadn’t come all this way just to prove his father right and die a victim to the dangerous forest. 

He looked around, but the clearing was empty, most likely purposely so, but…

Bloodroot. 

He knew it was harmful to humans, and even more so to farm animals when touched or consumed, so he just hoped it’d work on fae too. 

He took Scott’s small knife from his boot and leant down near the flowers. Before he could overthink it, he cut them at the stems and felt a rush of electricity run through his hands, making them spasm. 

The fae screeched and Peter took the opportunity to slash at her stomach. 

But Stiles took no notice as he cut another near-by bunch, he turned and saw the fae struggling to push Peter onto his back, but by the look of his straining arms it wouldn’t take much longer for her to over-power him. He sprinted towards the pair, just barely stumbling when Peter’s eyes flickered to his in fear. Just before the fae could use this to her advantage, Stiles dropped to his knees and shoved the dripping, torn stems into the raging fae’s mouth and eyes, keeping the leaking sap pressed to her face with his own stinging hands. 

She screamed. 

Stiles had never heard a sound like it, and going by Peter’s face, neither had he. Her claws dug deeper into where she was gripping Peter as she thrashed, and Stiles had to close his eyes at the sight of all his soulmate’s blood. 

He thought back to the conversation he’d had with Peter when he’d healed the bird in the woods.

 _“See, baby?_ You _did that. All you have to do is believe, Stiles, that’s the power and magic of being a Spark. Almost anything is possible as long as you know you have the strength and power to do it. Which you do,” Peter said with a confidence Stiles didn’t have before shrugging. “And even if, for some reason, you don’t, I’ll be there with you to help and guide you with whatever you need.”_

And so, Stiles believed then, in the clearing, he believed that the Bloodroot would kill the fae, would leave her hands limp and no longer digging deep into Peter’s gut and ribs. 

He forgot to believe that his hands wouldn’t be affected by the toxic sap, but he did have a lot on his mind at the time. 

He kept his hands pressed firm against her face, the pain racing up his shaking arms. He was concentrating so hard he didn’t hear when the fae choked out her name on her last breath, her blood gurgling from her mouth and soaking underneath Stiles’ palms. She stilled. But Stiles didn’t move his hands, he couldn’t _risk_ it, he needed to make sure Peter would be _safe._

“Stiles, come on.” He could faintly hear Peter’s voice through the blood rushing in his ears, felt his mask being taken off. “Come on, baby, you can let go now. Gimme your hands, Stiles.” 

He opened his eyes – he couldn’t remember closing them? - when he felt his hands be peeled away from the dead fae’s face, the sharp burning of the root coming back to him once the air hit the blistered underside of his hands. Peter gently took his hands and turned them over, letting out a wounded noise from the back of his throat at the sight of Stiles’ raw looking palms. 

“Baby, you shouldn’t have done that, I can’t heal this. _Fuck._ It’s the base magic of another fae, not to mention it was mixed with your Spark.” He rubbed his thumbs over Stiles’ uninjured wrists, frowning at his limited magic and inability to help the one person he loves most. He sounded so distraught. “God, I’m so sorry, Stiles.” 

Stiles threw himself into Peter’s arms, only just managing to stop himself from clutching at his shirt last minute when his palms twinged with pain from movement. He felt his shoulders relax when Peter’s arms wrapped just as tight around his waist, keeping him held close. 

“I’m- I’m sorry I put you through all this, I just assumed what you felt based on my own feelings and thought we were on the same page, that this was just an awkward first courting.” Stiles huffed at that, making Peter chuckle before becoming sombre. “I shouldn’t have killed those men in your village, not in front of you like that. Not in front of any of them. I made it practically unliveable there for you, ignored your attachment to the place, the fact that your family is there, and all because I was too self-centred and over confident, thinking you’d never want to go back there once our bond was complete.” He scoffed at his arrogance. He pulled Stiles back, so he could look him in the eye as he spoke his next words carefully. “But I don’t regret killing them, and I can’t, won’t, apologise for my nature. I just wish I had better control at the time and I can work on that. If- If that’s something you want?” 

“Of course, Peter. And I forgive you for all of it,” Stiles said lifting one hand to hover shakily over Peter’s cheek. “You’re not the only one that needs to apologise, we both said cruel things. You’re right not to ask for forgiveness for your nature, that wouldn’t be fair to you. I hadn’t fully accepted all of you before. I pretended not to see the bits of you that didn’t fit into this mould I’d made for you when you never tried to lie and be anyone else but yourself.” 

“Stiles…”

“And if you were any other fae you would’ve taken advantage of me giving you the ring, but you were nothing but kind to me, helped me with my Spark.”

“I wouldn’t say I was _kind,”_ Peter mumbled shyly, his cheeks stained pink. 

“You were. And I-I strung you along, let my dad’s old doubts cling to my thoughts, though not on purpose and, really, is it still stringing you along if I do actually love you?”

Peter’s breath hitched. “You love me?” 

“I- Yeah. No point in denying it, I’m kind of sick of lying to myself about how I feel for you.”

Peter grinned, his eyes bright and a little wet. “I love you too, little fox.” 

“Yeah?” 

“More than anything.” 

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Stiles said excitedly, wiggling out of Peter’s hold to get to his bag, dumped a few feet away. He hooked his arm through the handle, trying his best to avoid scraping his palms and dropped it between where he and Peter sat. “Open it and reach into the inside pocket.” 

Peter frowned slightly in confusion but did as told. When he momentarily froze Stiles knew he had found it, and Peter brought out the leaf and held it gently in his hands. 

He read the small inscription written on it and let out a sharp breath. 

“I know we’ve still got some stuff to work through, neither of us are perfect, but…” Stiles drifted off at Peter’s persistent silence. 

_“‘Hand, heart, and soul,’”_ Peter choked out. “Stiles, do you know what-” 

_“Yes._ And I’d offer you my Spark too if I could, Peter, because I _know_ I can trust you. I love you.”

“This leaf isn’t a way to _apologise,_ Stiles. It- The book’s translation...” Peter had to cut himself off before he choked on his words. It was too much, he can’t go through this again he needs Stiles to know, to be on the same page. He wasn’t going to assume anything again. “This is a-.” 

“A statement of intent and me asking permission to start a courtship. I know.” 

“You can’t go back on these things, Stiles. Not with fae.” 

“Mieczyslaw.” 

Peter stiffens, feels the rush of power tingle from his chest to his toes that only comes from been given someone’s true name. 

“With the moon as my witness, I, Mieczyslaw Genim Stilinski, ask...” 

“Petros Hahl,” Peter added breathlessly. 

“To complete our bond, in blood and soul.” Stiles linked their pinkies in place of holding hands. “And everything in between, baby.” He winked, feeling the bond slowly start to heal itself and reach out towards Peter. 

“I can’t fucking believe you,” Peter laughed wetly. He cupped Stiles’ face and stroked his cheeks softly, reverently. The chain around Stiles’ neck glinted in the pale moonlight and distracted Peter momentarily, he pulled it out from beneath Stiles’ shirt and coat and smiled. He belatedly noticed the slight blush on Stiles’ cheeks after looking up from the ring that started all this, resting lightly on his fingertips, the magic still pulsing through it and reaching out to Peter like the magic in Stiles’ chest. He grinned cheekily at his soulmate’s shy look, making him blush harder and huff, elbowing Peter lightly for his teasing.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you and it _hurt,_ but the idea of losing you or, at least, my connection to you, hurt more.” Stiles shrugged embarrassedly. Even thought they’d both admitted their feelings for each other only moments prior, Stiles still felt shy to admit his vulnerabilities during the bond breaking. 

“I’m glad you kept it close, it’s how I found you so quick after Mar warned me of the attack.”

“Mar? How’d she know?” 

“Banshees are seers of death and she whispered your name. I assumed the worst and got here as soon as I could.”

“My knight in shining armour.”

“Does that make you my damsel in distress?” Peter leered. 

“Ok buddy, maybe I should go show my appreciation to Mar, considering she’s the one who sounded the alarm.” Stiles pretended to move away from Peter, only to be grabbed tightly around the waist and pulled close. 

“That won’t be necessary. I’ll express our gratitude when I check on her later.”

Stiles tilted his head inquisitively. 

“She always… Struggles after a bad premonition. The screaming takes it out of her.” 

“Shit. Should we go _now?_ She could be hurt,” Stiles said worriedly. He’d only met Mar once, but he was a fan of Peter’s friend. 

Peter looked at Stiles’ burnt hands, he knew the only reason Stiles wasn’t writhing on the floor in pain was because of his remaining adrenaline and his Spark was working subconsciously to do its best to heal the seared flesh and keep the pain at bay. 

“Yeah, we should go. Mar might have something for your hands that could help too.” 

The Spark winced at the reminder. “That’d be a good idea. I need to get back before sunrise though, I don’t want to worry my family too much.” Stiles looked up at the sky, noting how the moon had started to fall. 

“They don’t know you’re here, do they?” Peter asked tiredly. 

“They might be unaware I decided to move the adventure date forward a few days...” 

_“’Adventure date’,_ Jesus Christ. Of course, I’ll get you home as soon as your hands are sorted, don’t worry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk if the apologies covered everything or not but I think they did and anything else they can sort in the future i guess? 
> 
> also hope they aren't too ooc to what I'd been writing before, I'd kind of lost the humour to the angst and I tried bringing a bit of that back in this chapter 
> 
> don't worry, last chap will be out next week bc its already written


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next full moon came quicker than Stiles anticipated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally! its finished! 
> 
> I'm gonna miss writing this story since I've spent so long on it, but its also kind of a relief to have it done. I lost a lot of steam towards the end and it started to feel more like a chore which annoyed me bc I loved writing it for the most part so feeling that way didnt fully make sense to me 
> 
> anyway! comments and kudos are always appreciated and I'll be on with my next fic soon enough,, maybe not multi chap tho, I might try few short ones again and work my way up

Stiles only just crashed through his front door in time to see his father and Mel sleepily walk out of their rooms. He had frozen in his tracks and not even bothered to explain himself; his wrapped hands, rugged appearance, and new shadow – Peter – told his parents everything they needed to know. 

Even Scott was upset with him, saying he would’ve come with him to help if he’d asked, like when they went on adventures when they were little. Stiles tried to explain how he needed to do it alone, and Scott nodded, understanding, and told him that he’d always have his back in the future, not hesitating to back his statement up with a strong hug. 

Lydia was weak when they found her that night, but no more so than usual, so Peter was able to care for her. After she settled against Stiles’ side and was handed a special herbal tea from Peter, she gained enough strength back to talk Peter through treating Stiles’ hands. 

His hands never fully healed, and with that came a lack of control of his powers. Stiles knew it was his own lack of confidence, and not that his scarred hands actually made any difference. 

Peter took every chance given to make sure Stiles knew how strong and talented he was, that his scars were just evidence of how far he’d come. And slowly but surely, Stiles started to get better at his magic once more, his use of runes coming back to him naturally. 

“Soon, you won’t even need them,” Peter would say. And every time Stiles would duck his head to hide his proud grin. 

 

\--- 

 

The next full moon came quicker than Stiles anticipated, and with it, the finalisation of his and Peter’s bond. 

“I can’t believe my little boy’s getting married,” John sniffled, tugging Stiles into a tight hug. 

“Ugh, I know, dad, you’ve said this to me for the last ten days while we’ve been preparing everything,” Stiles laughed against his dad’s shoulder. 

“You look so handsome, Mietek,” Mel said proudly, lightly squeezing his cheek once his dad let him go. “Peter won’t know what hit him.” 

“Thanks, Mel.” Stiles smiled bashfully. He gestured to his head. “The flower crown feels a little over the top, but-.”

“That’s why it’s perfect for you!” Scott shouted cheekily from the back door of the house where he was tying a safety bracelet onto Allison’s wrist, Stiles had made them for all his human wedding guests since the wedding was in the forest. 

Stiles had found the idea of having the wedding in the forest a little hard to swallow at first. Either his family would be in great danger, or they wouldn’t be able to cross the boundary to the other plane and would, therefore, not be present at his wedding at all. Peter had taken it as a challenge. Stiles was a Spark and he was one of the most powerful and knowledgeable faes to exist, he would find a way to bring Stiles’ family across the planes, even if it was only for a few hours. 

Which is how the bracelets came about, they were braided with minotaur hair - a friend of Mar - infused with Stiles’ Spark, and each had a single, tiny mermaid claw hanging from the centre. Stiles didn’t want to talk about how many teeth he carried to the lake for the mermaids’ sacrifice, though they seemed happy to do it after Peter explained it was for their bond ceremony. 

His family had flinched at the sight of the ugly bracelets, Allison too when Scott pulled it out of his pocket, but if it meant they could finally see part the place Stiles had fallen in love with, share a memory in the forest with him, none of them would verbally complain. 

“Shut up, Scotty! Are we ready to go yet, or do you want to redo your hair for the fifth time?” 

He heard Allison’s giggles underneath Scott’s indignant squawk and grinned. 

“Ok, so how do we do this?” His dad asked. 

“Just hold hands and then _poof,_ we’ll be outside of Peter’s ring and then he’ll take us through to the ceremony.” Stiles shrugged, confident that he’d be able to get them all to his fiancé’s Ring. He’d been practicing. 

“He’s seeing you before the wedding starts?” Allison asked, frowning. 

“I guess. Fae don’t really believe in luck, just fate,” Stiles said, quickly transporting them all to the forest while they were distracted. 

“You’re getting good at that,” a voice said behind them. 

Stiles turned to see Peter stood at the edge of his Ring, a thick blindfold covering his eyes. 

“Is the blindfold part of it?” Stiles asked while his family tried to push through the slight nausea. “Because I don’t remember you telling me about that part of the ceremony.”

Peter huffed a laugh. “No, but Mar insisted I wear it. She said it’s a human tradition not to see each other before the wedding.” He smiled fondly, his face turned a little too far left of Stiles. 

“It’s meant to be bad luck,” Allison added from where she was leaning on a bent over Scott. Peter turned his ear towards her direction. 

“It’s a good job I’m wearing it then.” Peter squeezed Stiles’ hand briefly. 

“What, and it doesn’t matter that I can see you?” Stiles asked. 

“I’m going to change as soon as I hand you off to Mar.” 

“Can’t get rid of us quick enough, huh?” Mel joked, dragging John behind her even as he still rubbed his queasy stomach. 

“I thought you said these bracelets would stop the nausea, Mietek,” John complained. 

“You didn’t throw up, right? So, they’ve done their job, can’t help it if you’ve got an extra sensitive stomach, dad.” 

“Don’t worry, the nausea will fade once you step through the Ring,” Peter added. 

“Then what are we waiting for?” Scott headed towards Peter and gripped his free hand tightly. “Let’s cross over already.” 

Stiles deep belly laugh faded in the forest as soon as they stepped over. 

 

\--- 

 

“Ok, Stiles, you stay here, your family is coming with me and Big Bad Jr to sit and wait for the ceremony to start.” Mar started shuffling them all around as soon as she had spotted them. “You’ve got your mask, right?” 

Stiles nodded. “Wasn’t willing to face your wrath if I forgot it.”

“Clever fox.” Lydia smirked. 

He hadn’t had to wait long before he heard the kind of eerie, but definitely beautiful sound of the yama-uba singing and prepared himself to walk towards his husband at the end of the aisle, slipping on his fox mask once more. He wished he could’ve walked with his dad, he felt like he needed the momentary support, the confidence boost as he started walking, but it was part of fae tradition to meet in the middle of the aisle alone. 

The light robes he and Peter were wearing would’ve done nothing to protect them from the bite of the January chill, but Peter must’ve done something to change the weather in his Ring on this plane because Stiles felt comfortably warm. 

He saw Peter grin behind his wolf mask when they made eye contact, his own smile spreading wide across his face and reflecting in his eyes. The nervous urge to look for his family disappeared as he got closer to his soulmate, finally meeting in the centre of the aisle, and they reached forward slowly to unmask each other, a sign of trust between both parties. Both their eyes widened slightly at the sight of the matching floral crowns hidden beneath. 

Mar, Stiles thought. Peter said that the banshee and Allison would become close and dangerous friends, and with the added deviousness of Melissa in the mix for their wedding, he’s surprised more wasn’t done behind their backs. 

He dropped the wolf mask to the ground and took one last step forward, bringing him practically chest to chest with Peter, surrounded by their family, friends, and some of the creatures he had met that understood the significance of a complete soulbond between a fae and a Spark and how it’ll affect the balance of the forest. 

“Hey, Big Bad.” 

“Hi, little fox.” 

They grinned, giddy and in love. 

“Are you ready?” Stiles asked, reaching forward to link their hands. They were only speaking loud enough for each other to hear, making their little bubble all the more intimate. 

“I’ve been waiting for this my whole life.” 

“Then what are you waiting for, seal the deal already.” Stiles squeezed their hands excitedly, swaying forwards on his toes. 

“In blood and soul,” Peter started, louder and clearer for their guests. 

“And everything in between,” Stiles finished. 

They leaned in to kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all liked it!! 
> 
> I'm not sure if this is gonna be the ending people wanted or not but I kind of lost inspiration and confidence w this fic but I didn't want to start a new one bc I knew I'd never come back to it and I really didnt want to leave it unfinished 
> 
> I'm going to be writing another fic soon but not for tw, but the one after that might be so stay tuned :)
> 
> edit: the positive response to this fic has been overwhelming and it's reminded me why I love writing and why I love this fandom. Thank you to everyone who commented, whether you were there from the beginning or read it towards its end, it means a lot to me :)

**Author's Note:**

> Peter was wearing a mask bc he was mocking Stiles' before he knew what power was put into it. He wasn't 100% sure Stiles was aware of his Spark and he figured the mask would be useless to keep Stiles safe. It was also a way to level the playing field, like 'this kid doesn't want to show his face? Then I won't either.' Add to the mystery and fear of the fae bc Peter is Dramatique and Petty no matter what au he's in 
> 
> Some of the fae lore I completely made up, other stuff I found when I furiously scoured the internet for a few hours late one night, and some of its a mix? But if any of you have any fae (or other supernatural creatures) tidbits you want me to try and include that'd be a great help 
> 
> Btw does it make sense to shorten Mieczyslaw to Miecz or would Polish speakers shorten it another way?


End file.
